


The Cyrodilic Way of Life

by Dundreary



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Fantasy, Gen, Humor, Light-Hearted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dundreary/pseuds/Dundreary
Summary: A light-hearted and comedic story about the misadventures of Cyrus Amentius, a short-tempered and notoriously unlucky priest of Akatosh, as he flees his home in Black Marsh to make it big in Cyrodiil, only to arrive there at the worst possible time in Tamrielic history: The Oblivion Crisis of 3E433. Together with a growing party of misfits, he tries to put an end to all the chaos plaguing the land in order to finally achieve the pleasant life he always craved.
Kudos: 8





	1. Brave New World

Summers in Black Marsh have always been tough. The inherent tropical climate paired with the increasingly high humidity made living in the damp swamps almost unbearable, especially for non-native inhabitants. Swarms of mosquitoes and fleshflies plague the cities, so most residents tend to avoid the rundown alleys and murky waterways in favor of indoor locations.

This is why, on a particularly warm and unpleasant evening in the late summer of 3E433, the Bogwater Inn in Inh-Xal was filled to the brim with thirsty patrons. Inh-Xal, a tiny village a few miles east of Soulrest, was a place no one in the rest of Tamriel or even Black Marsh has heard about. Aside from a few plantations, it was utterly unremarkable, as were all the people who lived there. One of those residents was Cyrus Amentius, the local priest and tender of the chapel of Akatosh. He came to the inn every single evening for the past few years, had a few drinks and contemplated the world. For him, it was something like a ritual.

“I hate my life.”, he muttered as he stared into his almost empty mug.

From the surface of the stale beer inside, the reflection of a worn-out face with grey eyes and light brown messy hair looked back. It was true, he absolutely hated his life. Ever since he was a little kid, he wanted to live a life of adventures and excitement, just like the heroes in stories and books. But instead, he grew up to be to be a priest in a backwater in the middle of nowhere. It was the worst, Cyrus often wondered who in their right minds decided to build a place for worshipping the Nine Divines so far from the center of Imperial culture. Most of the local Argonians tended to stick with Sithis or whatever else they believed in and paid the church of the Nine Divines little to no mind. Just yesterday, Cyrus saw a grown Argonian man talking to a tree in his backyard. It was that ridiculous. The only people who even visited the chapel where Imperial soldiers travelling through the village on their way east to Blackrose or Lilmoth.

Of course, the few Imperial residents of Inh-Xal and rare travelling traders came by the chapel occasionally, but most of the time, Cyrus was just sitting around, waiting for the evening so he could get a few beers. Every day was the same, rinse and repeat. Additionally, he didn’t even earn money with priesthood. To cover basic living expenses, he had to take a side job selling crops at the market. His employer there was Salt-Upon-Earth, one of the local farmers (how could you become a farmer with a name like this, anyway?), but the hot summer this year has taken a toll on the harvested produce, which Salt-Upon-Earth frequently whined to Cyrus about.  
As a result, Cyrus had to live life limited to the bare necessities in a dilapidated shack next to the chapel.

On evenings like this, in a half-drunk state, Cyrus usually fantasized about escaping from this godsforsaken place. To just leave and never look back, that was his dream, but he was grounded enough to know that this would never happen. He was well-read and proficient in restoration magic (a beneficial side effect of his life-long upbringing at the church), but he lacked the necessary stamina and combat skills to do something like adventuring or hunting outside of the village, so his childish life goal was out of question.  
Maybe it was his fate to stay here, live in poverty and die a lonesome death to swamp fever one day, who knows. All his life he was taught to be a devout follower of the Nine, but recently he started to doubt that they had a plan for anyone. Maybe they didn’t even exist. Or maybe they were just huge jerks, being mildly entertained by his misery. Still, getting drunk every evening and wallowing in self-pity somewhat helped, so at least he got by.

“What’s up, _Lame_ ntius?”.

 _Ugh_. A deep raspy voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Cyrus knew this voice all too well: it belonged to Scar-Tail, a resident Argonian with dark red scales, a green face and two large fins on his head. He seemingly existed for the sole purpose to get on Cyrus’ nerves. Maybe he was put here specifically by the gods just to make Cyrus’ life even worse.  
Scar-Tail was flanked by two female Argonians in elaborate armor that Cyrus didn’t recognize. They both looked extremely bored, or maybe haughty, he couldn’t tell. Cyrus briefly wondered if Scar-Tail paid them just to accompany him and making him look more suave.

“Drowning your sorrows in beer again, I see? I would do the same if I were you.”, Scar-Tail jeered.

“What do you care? Can’t you be annoying somewhere else?”, Cyrus replied, to his own surprise. Usually, he tried to keep calm around the Argonian to give him no reason to harass him any further.

“Hey, I wouldn’t mouth off to a Shadowscale like that if I were such a sad little man like you.”.

As much as it annoyed Cyrus, that statement was correct, Scar-Tail was, in fact, a Shadowscale, an official assassin for the crown in Black Marsh. Still, why Scar-Tail decided to pick on him exclusively for months was beyond him, and at this moment, he had just about enough of the Argonian’s behavior. Also, “sad little man”? He was not wrong, but still… rude.

“Are you threatening me, Scar-Tail? Or should I rather call you Scar- _Fail_? I heard your last assignment didn’t go as planned. Actually, you botched it quite a bit.”, Cyrus remarked, sounding far more courageous than he actually felt.

It was true, there were rumors going around that his latest mission ended horribly and discredited him. Of course, no one in their right mind would have confronted him personally with something like that, Shadowscales were usually feared. For a brief moment, the two women next to him showed the slightest glimpse of a smile, before changing back to their bored expressions.

Cyrus immediately realized that he had gone too far, Scar-Tail did not expect Cyrus to stand up to him. The people on the tables around them went quiet and turned their heads to see what was going on. The mood in the tavern sure turned quickly. Scar-Tail’s eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to Cyrus. He could feel the Argonians smelly breath on his face as he whispered:

“How dare you talk to me like that? Are you really that brave or just stupid?”.

To be honest, Cyrus didn’t know the answer to that. His heart raced and sweat drops began to form on his forehead. He just made a professional assassin who already hated him even more mad and unreasonable, what was he thinking? All he could do was looking up to Scar-Tail with a sheepish grin on his face. _I’m so sorry, please don’t stab me!_

“If I were you, I would be veeeeery careful the next few days, or an accident might happen to you…”, Scar-Tail whispered even quieter than before.

With that, he quickly turned around and left the tavern, together with his entourage. Damnit, how could that happen? Why did he say that? It had to be the alcohol that made him so careless. Cyrus was left sitting there with everyone’s eyes glued on him, his mug shaking in his hand. As he looked up, everyone abruptly turned away again, minding their own business. Someone knocked over their mug and spilled their drink. He had to get out of here, fast.

Stumbling and pushing through the crowd he opened the door and stepped into the stale night air. On his way home, his mind raced to come up with a solution. He had to hurry and leave the village. At first to Soulrest, and from there to wherever, just as far away from Scar-Tail as possible. But how? He had almost no gold put aside and no basic gear to survive on his own in the wilderness of Black Marsh. His grey priest robe fluttered behind him as he scurried over the muddy streets.

In his shack, he locked the door behind him and paced up and down the room. There was no way he would survive the next week if he stayed here. Then again, he hated his life anyway and was miserable, so wouldn’t that be a good thing? No, he thought, he had to keep going. Under no circumstances did he want to give Scar-Tail the satisfaction of murdering him. Maybe he just had to sleep it through for the night, and plan his escape the next day, when he was feeling refreshed and not as stressed out? Yes, that would be the rational and responsible thing to do.

… At least, that’s the conclusion he came to when he thought back on it later. In reality, when the early sun creeped into his shack on the next morning, Cyrus was immediately awake. In fact, he didn’t sleep at all, instead hiding behind an overturned table, armed with a broom. His whole body was tired and his eyes strained, but he didn’t care, he needed to stay vigilant. After hearing a sudden knock on his door, Cyrus almost had a heart attack and jumped up.

“Wh-Who is there? S-state your business!”, Cyrus yelled hoarsely at the door. Was Scar-Tail already here to finish him off? No, Scar-Tail wouldn’t just knock, would he?

“I’m a messenger from the Imperial province of Cyrodiil, here to deliver a letter, to Cyrus Amentius.”, a voice answered. Cyrodiil, the Imperial province? Home to the Imperial City, the capital of Tamriel?

“Slip it under the door!”, Cyrus commanded and a few seconds later an envelope was laying on the dusty shack floor. Not letting go of the broom, Cyrus crawled over to it and frantically ripped it open.

_Cyrus Amentius,_

_We regret to inform you of the death of your relative, Caius Amentius. As the nephew and closest living relative of the aforementioned person, you are to inherit his wealth and property. To conclude the transaction, your personal appearance at the Office of Imperial Commerce in the Imperial City is necessary. The cost for travel is delivered together with this letter and will be deducted from your final inheritance._

_Farewell and with condolences,_

_Vinicia Melissaeia, Office of Imperial Commerce_

Cyrus’ brain couldn’t keep up. Who was that guy? He surely never heard of him. Cyrus didn’t get to know his parents, so there was no way he could have known of his extended family. Anyways, this had to be a gift from the gods. A reward for his devout life here in a heretical land. Or whatever, he didn’t care. This was his chance, he always wanted to get away, now more than ever, and here was his way out. Cyrus didn’t need to think twice to know what he had to do. He sprang to his feet, unlocked the door and teared it open.

“There was supposed to be gold delivered with this letter, give it to me!”, Cyrus exclaimed to the surprised courier. He possibly looked like a madman: wide open bloodshot eyes, unshaven and sweating profusely.

“H-here, sir…”, the courier stammered and handed him a small coin pouch.

Cyrus grabbed it violently and slammed the door shut again in the unsuspecting messenger’s face. The decision was already made: he would not hesitate any longer. Fate gave him a sign, a way out, and he would have been crazy not to grab this chance. Hectically, he began to stumble around his shack, throwing all his possessions into an old worn satchel. As he didn’t own much except a few books and clothes, it didn’t take long before he made his way to the nearest landing.

As he passed the chapel, he briefly thought about going in for a last time, maybe explain his future absence to the acolytes, but ultimately decided that he just didn’t care anymore. Damn this place. Damn the Divines. Damn Scar-Tail. He was leaving and not looking back. Finally, the life he had always dreamt was coming to him. Goodbye, poor life. He would get an inheritance to start off his new life.

Goodbye, boring church life. A life full of adventures and pleasantries awaited him now. Goodbye, celibate. Nothing could keep him now from falling in love and enjoying the companionship of women. Could it be any better?

While he boarded the next boat to Soulrest and slowly sailed away from the drab shacks and muddy alleys, he felt truly happy, no, euphoric even. It has been many years since he last felt so overjoyed. Wiping a tear from his eye, he turned his gaze away from the village he suffered so long in, and towards the narrow winded river that lead deeper into the swamps and forests, towards his bright future. Immediately, a few bugs big as his hands slapped into his face and getting tangled in his hair in the process, but Cyrus didn’t pay them any mind. He grabbed one of them and stared into the myriad of eyes looking back at him.

“Finally.”, he whispered to it, since no one else was around to listen to his monologue.

“Finally, I’m truly living!”.

He could feel tears of joy well up behind his eyes. There was a magnificent future waiting for him and no one and nothing could stop him now.

The journey to the Imperial City was strenuous.

After a brief stop at Soulrest, Cyrus spend days sailing north through the damp wetlands. The nights he spent sleeping uncomfortably on boats or makeshift encampments on muddy riverbanks. When the tall coniferous trees finally cleared, the environment seemed to become brighter and more vibrant, even the air felt lighter and more refreshing. In Gideon, he switched from travelling by boat to a carriage and finally crossed the border to Cyrodiil near a town called Leyawiin, where he boarded a ship once again to travel up the Niben River.

On his way north, the last traces of swampland fell behind him and got replaced by rolling hills and lush woodlands, a welcomed change. Cyrus marveled gleefully at the sights and got so obsessed leaning over the sides of the boat, that the other passengers literally shuffled away from him. Soon, the Imperial City came into view: An enormous ancient elven city, on an island in the middle of Lake Rumare. The cultural and political center of Tamriel, it was also home to The White-Gold Tower, maybe the most famous landmark in all of Tamriel. It was said to be visible from almost everywhere in Cyrodiil in the distance as it loomed over the circular city. It also was the largest city by far, as far as Cyrus remembered from his books.

As the boat slowly entered the waterfront, Cyrus was almost trembling in anticipation. How much would the inheritance be? What kind of house would he live in? Questions over questions. He dreamt about it all his life, but now that it finally happened, he was completely overwhelmed. Finally, the boat landed on a pier next to a tall lighthouse, which looked a lot like a miniature version of the White-Gold Tower. Once the boat was moored, the ferryman very grumpily told the passengers to get off the boat. How could he be so sullen? Didn’t he see how wonderful this day was?

It took a while for Cyrus to orient himself. Past the lighthouse, away from the city, was a small island where a plethora of ships were moored. The whole area was brimming with life and people who busily loaded and unloaded the sailing ships. A semicircular wall completed the numerous jetties, large warehouses and merchant’s mansions embedded into it. It already felt so much different from the tiny village with wood huts he came from. On the other side of the lighthouse, a large gate guarded what seemed to be a tunnel, connecting the waterfront district with the actual city towering on a steep hill above them.

“Greetings, traveler. What brings you to the Imperial City?”, one of the guards in imposing dark grey armor next to the gate greeted him as Cyrus drew closer.

“I’m here to receive an inheritance. Can you point me to the Office of Imperial Commerce, please?”, Cyrus answered, trying to sound as confident official as possible, which was probably offset by the way he looked. The long journey did a number on his robes, and he hadn’t shaved or washed in days. He would have felt better if the guard hadn’t snickered, though, how unprofessional.

As it turned out, the city was built like a big wheel with the White-Gold Tower in the center and all the different districts arranged around it. The Arcane University (a real academy for learning the art of magic, not just the little magic you can pick up at the local church), together with the prison and waterfront district were located outside of the main city, connected by bridges and tunnels. Of course, Cyrus knew all of this already, having read books about geography and history. If he had anything going for him in Inh-Xal, it was enough spare time to read, earning him a great amount of book-smarts.

He spent the morning walking around the city, gaping at all the buildings and elven architecture. You know, like a foreigner, or a tourist. The buildings and walls were much taller than Cyrus was used to, and he almost got lost in the maze of streets and alleys meandering through the city. The Imperial Palace in the center was a breathtaking sight with its circular cemetery area around it, but so were all the inns and taverns. By noon, he had them all memorized and intended to try some of them out in the evening to celebrate his outstanding victory. All but a particularly shabby looking one in the waterfront district. Who in their right mind opens a tavern on a ship?

In the early afternoon, after a leisurely stroll through the Arboretum, he decided it would be time to finally speak to this Vinicia person about his future. As he made his way to the Market District, people kept staring at him as they had been all day. His robe was torn and distressed from his arduous journey, his hair dirty and his face sported a permanent delighted grin, which all made him look like some deranged homeless person, so he couldn’t blame them. But he didn’t care, life was just too beautiful right now. Finally, his new life began.

Arriving at the Office of Imperial Commerce, he barely could contain his joy when he entered and energetically announced:

“Hello, I’m here because of an inheritance, I presume?”.

“And you are…?”, a woman of middle age in noble clothing behind the counter inquired sternly.

“My name is Cyrus Amentius, nephew of … Caius Amentius, deceased resident of the Imperial City.”, he answered, after taking a brief look at the crumpled letter. The woman, who Cyrus assumed was Vinicia Melissaeia, looked at him with an appraising look.

“My condolences. Alright, just wait here a moment.”. She walked through a door behind her, and, a few minutes later, came back with an assortment of papers and a set of keys.

“After you read this, I need you to sign here… and here. Be sure to read everything carefully and make your decision based on that. You have the option to not accept the inheritance, if you wish.”, Vinicia explained and reached Cyrus the paperwork.

What was she talking about? Why wouldn’t he accept it? His hand trembled as he signed all the papers, without reading a single bit of them, of course. He didn’t have time for bureaucratic nonsense like this. The Imperial culture was way too obsessed with lists and paperwork, he knew that much already. But why did Vinicia look so surprised as he handed her the parchments back?

“Everything seems in order, if you would follow me, I will show you your new residence.”, she announced while sorting the papers in a nearby shelf.

Cyrus was trembling with anticipation the whole way, as he trotted behind her like some kind of overly excited lap dog. He didn’t even question the fact that they were leaving the city through the long tunnel, back towards the waterfront district he arrived at. Was it maybe one of the merchant’s mansions near the docks?

“Here we are, this is the location in question.”, Vinicia stated abruptly, handing him the keys.

 _Huh?_ Wait. Something was not right.

“What… what do you mean…? Surely this has to be a mistake, I mean…”, Cyrus stammered.

“I assure you; this is the right spot. I’m sure you read all the paperwork before you signed?”, Vinicia retorted.

Cyrus couldn’t believe his eyes. In front of him stood a small derelict wooden shack, not unlike the one he lived in back in Black Marsh. It wasn’t even inside the walls of the waterfront district; it was on the backside of the harbor together with lots of other crude shacks forming some sort of shanty town. Before he could process all of it, Vinicia started talking again:

“To furnish your new… home, be sure to check in with Sergius Verus at Three Brothers Trade Goods in the Market District. Not that you will be able to pay for any of it, but just in case…”. If not for the circumstances, Cyrus would have been amazed by the amount of disdain this woman could put into her words.

“What do you mean, I can’t pay? I at least received all his wealth, didn’t I?”, Cyrus asked anxiously, firmly gripping the keys. He had a bad feeling about all of this.

“What you inherited is Caius Amentius’ debt, 100,000 septims to be exact. You didn’t read the contract after all, I assume? Anyways, we will send debt collectors every once in a while, so be ready to pay for them. Have a good day… citizen of Cyrodiil”. And with that, Vinicia left him standing in front of his new property.

All the happiness he felt before vanished in a second like air leaving his body. What remained was only the feeling of utter defeat and misery that he was so used to having. As he entered his newly acquired shack, he smelled the familiar bouquet of dank wood and mildew and fell on his knees in the middle of the room, sobbing. How could things end up like this? He fled his miserable hometown only to end up in the same situation all over again? Just when he thought he finally made it. By oblivion, there wasn’t even any furniture in here except for a cheap bed. Cobwebs adorned the ceiling and dust was scattered all over the floor. What kind of person was this Caius Amentius anyways, racking up debt, only to pass it on to his ancestors? Was this some kind of ongoing joke from the gods? Did he really have to start his new life already in financial peril?

After laying on the floor for a while, he decided that wallowing in self-pity was probably not the most productive thing to do. He needed to order his thoughts and plan the next steps. But first he felt the need for a drink.

Taking a brief walk around the backside of the waterfront district, Cyrus concluded that this place was exactly as rundown as he feared. A few crooks in dark leather armor seemed to have some sort of meetup in a backyard near his shack. He thought he saw a gold colored ponytail looking out of one of the cowls, but he ultimately decided that those people looked like trouble. Poor and sick beggars were littering the alleys, together with dirty laundry and refuse. Rats scurried between piles of trash and broken barrels. What a place to live. The only tavern he could afford now was the one he didn’t even want to visit at all.

“The Bloated Float”. What a stupid name to give to your inn. From the outside, it looked like a shabby middle-class wooden house planted on top of a sailing ship, what a ridiculous idea. But when Cyrus entered, he was greeted by the warm and cozy feeling of a regular tavern.

“Beer.”, Cyrus exclaimed once he reached the counter.

The bartender, an Altmer with ridiculous spiky hair, immediately got to work. What was he supposed to do now? Living in a shanty town, he needed to get his hands on gold fast to repay the debt, all while trying to make a living. Where should he start? Selling crops again on the market, or maybe offering his services as a priest and healer again? This was nothing like he imagined his new life to be.

“Sir, are you crying?”, the Altmer inquired while handing him his beer.

“N-no… I just… dust in my eyes...yeah.”, Cyrus managed to say.

After about 6 or 7 beers, Cyrus finally managed to feel somewhat better. Sure, the numbness caused by the alcohol might have helped with that, but still. Also, he felt somewhat nauseous and he could have sworn that the ship moved more than before, were they sailing out to sea? Whatever, he knew what he had to do now. Damn Vinicia for tricking him to sign the paperwork. He would go back there and complain, right now. She would listen to him and take back the shack and debt. Yeah. That was the plan, nothing could go wrong. Better than returning to his priesthood or some other lowly job. Cyrus ordered another beer to go and left the tavern.

The sun was already setting as he stumbled his way back through the tunnel into the city. If he looked like a beggar before, he didn’t want to know what the people thought of him now.

Standing in front of the door of the Office of Imperial Commerce, he briefly paused to think a moment. Was this really the most rational and best solution at hand? Yes. Yes, it was. It definitely was, why wouldn’t it be? It was too late to change his mind now anyways. Glad to have made an informed decision, he tried to open the door. If only the door handle would stop spinning so fast.

He teared the door open without knocking.

“I h-have a complaint to… to complain…the shack… Yeah.”, he jabbered loudly.

Damn, why was it so hard to talk? Did he always stumble over his words that much?

“Excuse me, sir, but…”, Vinicia exclaimed with an annoyed expression in her eyes as Cyrus made a move towards her, flourishing his half empty beer bottle around.

_Rriiipp._

_No!_ Why did this have to happen now of all times? He stepped on the hem of his robe, tearing the fabric around his waist. Weakened by the long journey from Black Marsh, the seams finally surrendered as the lower part of his robe fell to the floor, taking with it his underwear. Cyrus tripped and fell forward into a shocked Vinicia and soon found himself hunched over her laying on the floor.

 _Why? Why why why why WHY?_ Didn’t he suffer enough already?

“Guards!” GUAAARRDS!”, Vinicia shrieked into his ear.

In a matter of seconds, a pair of Imperial Legionnaires arrived at the still open door to take in the scenery: a half-naked man, bending over a defenseless woman on the floor. Cyrus was not stupid; he knew how this may have looked for a bystander. All he needed to do was to calmly explain the situation and leave with at least a bit of his dignity intact. He hurled around and sprang to his feet, gesticulating wildly while trying to describe the happenings.

“He has a weapon, arrest him!”, one of the guards yelled.

_What?_

He didn’t even notice the broken beer bottle he flailed around in his right hand the whole time. It must have shattered as he fell to the floor.

As such, he didn’t even fight back when the guards tackled him to the tiled floor, or when they dragged him out onto the streets where every pair of eyes was glued on him. He didn’t resist when they were pushing him forward over a bridge towards the prison district, or when they stripped him of all his possessions and clad him in crude burlap clothes. As they handcuffed him, he heard a guard in shining white armor, maybe a higher up, yell something at him concerning indecent exposure and armed assault. Only as they took him down a flight of steep stairs and closed the barred gate behind him, he came back to his senses.

Slowly he lurched towards a small alcove in the wall of his tiny stony cell and slumped down on the rough bed made from hay, like a sad sack of potatoes. The cell was somewhere underground and was illuminated by a ray of moonlight shining through a tiny barred window on the upper wall. Water dripped from the ceiling; it was almost peaceful. Burying his face in his hands, he started to cry, once again.

“Finally, my new life begins…”, he sobbed quietly before slowly falling into a restless sleep.


	2. The Grand Escape

It must have been in the early hours of the morning when Cyrus woke up again. He vaguely recalled a nightmare about some place with molten lava and strange creatures, but he soon remembered that his current situation was already a nightmare, so he didn’t think of it any further.

“Hey! Hey, you! Over here, in the opposite cell!”, someone with a coarse voice yelled. Right, the reason Cyrus woke up, the incessant yelling of what he assumed to be another prisoner.

“What do you want?”, Cyrus responded tiredly, walking towards the door of his cell.

“Oh, look, an Imperial in the Imperial Prison. I guess they don't play favorites, huh? Your own kinsmen think you're a piece of human trash.”, a Dark Elf in the other cell sneered. Who was that, Scar-Tails long lost Dunmer cousin? Just when he thought he had left behind at least one of his problems.

“How sad. I bet the guards give you a special treatment before the end.”, the Dark Elf continued, just as Cyrus was walking away again.

Couldn’t he just get back to his nightmares about fiery landscapes again, please? He didn’t have the energy to put up with this right now.

“Oh, that's right. You're going to die in here, Imperial! You're going to die! Imperial criminal scum like you give the Empire a bad name, you see. You're an embarrassment. Best if you just... disappeared.”, the Dunmer finished. Cyrus spun around.

“What do you mean by that?”, he exclaimed, shocked.

He felt his sleepiness abruptly getting replaced by anxiety. Was that guy serious? Was there really an execution waiting for him already? Didn’t he get a fair trial first? If the Dunmer was right, this was worse than he thought. Cyrus involuntarily flinched as he heard the loud slamming of a door from the upper end of the flight of stairs that lead towards the cells.

“Hey, you hear that? The guards are coming... for you!”, the annoying Elf stated with a smug grin. He finished with a harrowing laugh before retreating into his cell.

No, this couldn’t be! He did nothing wrong; it was all a misunderstanding! He began to panic; would they really execute him already? Damn this stupid Dunmer for fueling his fear. He leaned onto the bars of his cell, desperate to see or hear who was coming down the stairs. It had to be multiple people, he could hear several footsteps and at least 3 different voices.

“…No, they are all dead, I know it.”, a deep pleasant voice stated. Cyrus couldn’t help but imagine a bald old person behind that voice.

“It is now my obligation to get you out of here”, a female voice exclaimed impatiently. Someone was dead? What was going on here?

“I know this place…. the prison?”, the deep voice inquired. A voice that radiated authority, like that of a ship’s captain or something.

“Yes, your majesty. Beneath the legion compound. We are on our way to a secret passage that is only known by the Blades. No one will be able to follow us through it.”, the woman answered.

She called someone “your majesty”. Why would a noble person visit the prison? And what secret passage? Cyrus got more and more confused about it. Slowly, in the light of a torch, four people appeared in the hallway in front of his cell. By the looks of it, three of them wore the same kind of ornate armor and matching swords of Akaviri design, including the only woman in the group. The fourth person was a man in a very expensive looking robe wearing a flashy red amulet around his neck. He had long white hair and his face looked almost as worn as Cyrus’, but much older. Cyrus had the impression of having seen this man somewhere before, but he wasn’t sure.

“What is this prisoner doing in here? This cell should be off-limits!”, the woman said with blatant anger in her voice.

One of her companions tried to apologize: “The usual chaos at the guard house, I…”.

He was immediately interrupted by the woman again: “Very well. Open the gate! You, prisoner, go to the back. We will kill you if you are in our way!”.

The last part was addressed directly at Cyrus and he was so taken aback that he just stood there, looking at them with a puzzled look on his face. What was going on here?

“Go back, prisoner, to the window!”, the third armored person, apparently a Redguard, yelled. Cyrus just now comprehended the situation and scurried to the back of his cell.

One of the guards opened his cell door, and all four of the people walked in, before he closed the door behind him again. What were they trying to do here? Was this a prank of some sort?

“You… I have seen you…”, the old aristocratic-looking man suddenly said and walked straight towards Cyrus.

“Let me see your face… You are the one from my dreams… Then the stars were right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength.”. Cyrus has never experienced this kind of reaction when meeting someone for the first time, he didn’t know what to say. The man was now uncomfortably close to him.

“S-Sorry, I’m not into men, but thanks, I guess?”, he blurted out nervously, a sheepish grin adorning his face. _Idiot!_ Why would he say something like that at this moment? “But… What is going on?”, he asked while trying to keep a professional look on his face. The look of a person who was not scared, confused and embarrassed.

The old man replied, ignoring the dumb things Cyrus said: “Assassins attacked my sons, and I am next. My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route is here in your cell.”. _Woah._ That was… weird. Assassins? Cyrus unwillingly pictured Scar-Tails face.

“Who are you?”, Cyrus wanted to know next and the old man calmly replied: “I am your emperor, Uriel Septim. By the grace of the gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler. You are a citizen of Tamriel, and you, too, shall serve her in your own way.”.

Wait, emperor? THE emperor, Uriel Septim VII of Tamriel? Here, in a prison cell, together with him? Fleeing from assassins? This sounded more and more like a plot from a book or a theater play. But he couldn’t get overwhelmed now. He needed to stay focused and make the best out of this situation. Surely the emperor could overrule his detainment?

“Why am I in jail? Could you maybe…”, Cyrus started, but Uriel Septim interrupted him: “Perhaps the gods have placed you here so that we may meet? As for what you have done… it does not matter. That is not what you will be remembered for.”. _Thank the gods._ To Cyrus, it sounded like an official pardon from the emperor, so he was technically free to leave, right? But still… what did Uriel Septim mean when he talked about fate and whatnot?

“So uhm… what should I do now?”, Cyrus asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“You will find your own path. Take care… there will be blood and death before the end.”, the emperor answered before turning back towards the guards that he called “Blades”. What was that remark supposed to mean? So far, everything the emperor said was annoyingly ornate and hard to understand.

“It seems that no one is following us, Sir.”, the Redguard Blade remarked, following by the woman replying: “Good. Then let’s go. We are not out of this mess yet.”.

With that, she pressed one of the stones in the wall next to Cyrus’ cot and a passage opened, hidden in the alcove. With loud rumbling and scraping noises, part of the wall receded into the floor, opening to a dark hallway behind it.

“Please, Sir, we need to get going.”, the female Blade urged and together with the emperor and the other blades, they went through the newly opened secret door. Cyrus was left behind, standing there with his jaw white open.

As surreal this situation was, this was his chance! He could simply leave this place, together with an armed escort. He had enough problems already without a prison sentence, so there was no way he would just ignore this opportunity and stay here like an upstanding, law-abiding citizen. He quickly went to his cell door, only to grimace at the Dunmer who was standing in his cell, looking utterly confused and enraged, before he followed the emperor and his guards.

After walking down a short cavernous hallway, Cyrus ended up in a room revetted in white smooth stone; the whole feel and architecture was different from the prison above. The air was stale and full of dust. This must have been an ancient substructure, located far beneath the busy streets of the Imperial City. He walked down the stairs in the middle of the room and followed the adjacent hallway, when he suddenly heard metal clanging and screams. Did the emperor and his guards got into a fight already? Cyrus fastened his pace and stepped around a corner, only to be greeted by the horrible image of the female Blade lying motionless on the floor, surrounded by the corpses of four men clad in dark red robes.

“Captain Renault, she’s…”, one of the Blades started, before losing his voice.

“I know, Glenroy, but we have to get going, come on.”, the other one said, while the emperor just stood there with a sad look in his face.

Cyrus felt the color leaving his face. He was used to the sight of corpses, being a priest and all, but he didn’t expect fights and death so early on his escape. Didn’t the emperor even say he would see a lot of blood and death? What was even going on, were these the assassins who were supposed to attack the emperor? This was not the glamorous escape he hoped for. He had to snap out of it, there was no way he would give up now. He stepped forward and saw the emperor and his guards leave the room at the lower end of some stairs.

“Wait!”, Cyrus shouted, but the door closed behind them.

Hastily he ran down the stairs and tried to open the door, but instead ran face-first into it. A stinging pain spread from his nose over his face. They locked it from the other side. Why would they do that? There were assassins down here and they just left him alone? How was he supposed to defend himself?

 _The sword, Captain Renault’s sword._ He rubbed his hurting nose and made his way up the stairs again. There it was, next to her corpse, a slightly curved ornate sword of Akaviri origin. Cyrus had absolutely no idea how to use a sword, but in his current situation, it was far better than nothing. As soon as he grabbed it, he heard a rumbling downstairs. Something broke through the wall next to the door downstairs.

A quite unmanly scream escaped his mouth, just as a large rat jumped out of the crumbling wall. _A rat._ It was just a rat, he needed to calm down _._ He could only do that for a few seconds though, before the rat started to leap at him. Cyrus raised the sword instinctively, but it was too late; tiny teeth burrowed themselves into his forearm. He screamed in pain and jostled the rat away before swaying the sword aimlessly in front of him until a fleshy sound followed by a dull thump signaled that he hit the animal. Something told him that this probably was _not_ the most efficient way to fight with a sword. Anyways, why was that rat so aggressive? Cyrus remembered them to be very docile in Black Marsh.

Catching his breath, he inspected the wound. It was unpleasant, but he could heal it without difficulty. At least that’s something he was good at. He remembered the necessary incantations and concentrated on the flow of his inner energy, manifesting it as a bright blue light emanating from his left hand. In an instant, a pleasant warmth spread through his body and the wounds healed. _Easy as pie!_ He proudly observed his amazing feat, but he didn’t have much time to praise himself, as two more rats came jumping through the broken wall. A few strikes with the sword (and even more bite marks) later, they were taken care of.

Great. He even had trouble taking down a few rats, how pathetic. What would he do if the assassins attacked? He could literally hear Scar-Tail mocking him. After healing himself (again), he stepped through the opening. Having nowhere else to go, he figured he might as well try.

The room behind was far cruder than the white halls he has been in so far. Cyrus found an old backpack next to a broken well, that he equipped. He wanted to be prepared for anything that might come in these tunnels, so he planned to take as much equipment with him as he could find. Old ruins like this usually held treasure, that’s why there were so many adventurers around that made their living by selling the things they found. Cyrus figured, if he chose that lifestyle, he could start now as well by collecting treasure on his way out here. The only problem was, that there wasn’t much to collect, apart from a few rusty weapons and armor pieces that he was in no way experienced to wear.

Exiting the room through a door on the other end, he was greeted, again, by rats. Scratched and bitten, he was able to defeat them, but already cursed whoever let this many of these creatures run rampant right under the city. Based on his experiences so far, this escape route was going to be very annoying. Walking around a corner, he saw, for the first time, another threat than rats.

A zombie, an undead creature, shuffled his way towards him. A grin came across his face involuntarily. The undead were a joke to him, a priest. Thanks to his prowess in restoration magic, he knew powerful spells to discard them easily. Holding out his hand, a wave of white light travelled along the corridor, completely obliterating the undead in his sight. _Yes!_ _Tremble before the might of the gods, vile creature!_ This was how true power felt like! This was how it was supposed to be! Cyrus felt as he could take on anyone right now!

But then… rats. Three of them followed the zombie, seemingly eager to immediately take him down from his high horse. He was not even granted a small victory.

After that, there were more rats in the cavern after the hallway, in the room behind that, and in the room after that. Over and over, his skin was pierced by dozens of small but sharp teeth. As it turned out, the safest way to traverse these rat-infested caves was to precautionary cast healing spells while swinging his sword in front of him continuously. It wasn’t the most heroic or glamourous way, but it got the job done.

And so it went on for what felt like an eternity. Rooms after rooms, corridors after corridors, hallways after hallways. Cyrus lost track of time completely, the only consistent thing being the barrage of rats hurled at him from corners and dark areas. To be fair, after a while there were also goblins, skinny humanoid creatures who heaved at him with weapons instead of claws and fangs. But the same tactic of healing and blindly attacking worked for them, too. By the Nine, he loathed physical combat already. At least he got some decent things to sell under the way and a few golden coins, so it was not completely meaningless.

After what he assumed had to be multiple months of blindly following caverns, he finally got back to the more refined hallways lined with white stone. He still had no idea where he was going, or if he was going anywhere in the first place, but there was no other way than forward.

Dropping down into the room from a hole near the ceiling, Cyrus was immediately greeted by the angry voice of Glenroy, one of the Blades guarding the emperor, nearly giving him a heart attack: “Damnit! It’s that prisoner again! He might be working with the assassins!”.

The emperor was still alive, together with his guards, that was good news. Drawing his sword, Glenroy came forth behind a pillar. Was this guy serious? Cyrus was furious by now, how could this guy dare to speak to speak to him like that, after all he has been through in this godsforsaken catacombs?

He readied his own sword and opened his mouth to give him a piece of his mind when they were interrupted by the emperor: “No. He is not one of them. He can help us. He must help us.”.

Glenroy reluctantly sheathed his sword. Who is the tough guy now, huh? One word from the higher ups and he backs down. How pathetic. Cyrus couldn’t help gloating over it. As he turned to face the emperor, he found him standing only inches away from him. How did he get that close so fast?

“They cannot understand why I trust you. They’ve not seen what I’ve seen. How can I explain?”, Uriel Septim stated, his eyes fixated on Cyrus’ face. Yes, how can you explain? Cyrus was still angered. All the time the emperor has only given vague hints, what was really going on here?

“Listen. You know the Nine? How they guide our fates with an invisible hand?”, the emperor asked. Where did that suddenly come from?

“I… I’m theoretically a priest of Akatosh, so…”, Cyrus started to answer but Uriel Septim interrupted him, once again.

“I’ve served the Nine all my life, and I chart my course by the cycle of the heavens. The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire and everyone a sign. I know these stars well, and I wonder… which sign marked your birth?”. Well, that was random. How does his birth sign have anything to do with this whole ordeal? Cyrus started to question the sanity of Tamriel’s beloved emperor. He was so surprised by that question that he even forgot to be angry.

“The… The Lady, Sir.”, Cyrus stammered, and the emperor answered: “The signs I read show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.”. Count on Uriel Septim to provide unnecessary convoluted statements on absolutely meaningless topics. Was he even able to form a regular sentence to convey information?

“What about me? Why did you ask for my sign?”, Cyrus asked, confused.

“Your stars are not mine. Today the Lady shall fortify you in your quest for glory.”, the emperor jabbered. He was a fool for even asking. By now, Cyrus was sure that the emperor was drunk or delirious, or that he himself was too dumb to fully understand any of the things he was going on about. He felt a sudden urge of pity for Glenroy and the other Blades. Considering the topic, he figured he might as well ask: “Can you see my fate?”.

“My dreams grant me no opinions of success. Their compass ventures not beyond the doors of death. But in your face, I behold the sun’s companion. The dawn of Akatosh’s bright glory may banish the coming darkness. With such hope, and the promise of your aid, my heart must be satisfied.”. Right. Whatever. But was he seriously so out of it that he didn’t care for the assassination attempts? He talked like he was sure that he would die anyways.

“Aren’t you afraid to die?”, Cyrus asked and instantly felt like a naïve child. As before, Uriel Septim answered promptly with a calm voice.

“No trophies of my triumphs precede me. But I lived well, and my ghost shall rest easy. Men are but flesh and blood. They know their doom, but not the hour. In this, I am blessed to see the hour of my death… To face my apportioned fate, then fall.”. Cyrus had just about enough of this, a headache started to form. He just wanted to get out of this place.

“Where are we going?”, he inquired.

“I go to my grave. A tongue shriller than all the music calls me. You shall follow me yet for a while, then we must part.”, the emperor concluded dramatically.

Talk about dampening the mood. Cyrus wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a part of this any longer, the whole ordeal didn’t seem to have a nice and happy ending like in adventurer’s stories. But anything was better than walking alone through dark corridors infested with millions of rats, so he decided he would stick with the emperor a little longer.

Just as he finished that thought, the Blades opened a door ahead of them and out came another one of the assassins, immediately conjuring some bound armor. He wore the same dark red robe as the ones Cyrus saw near the beginning of these tunnels. Another one appeared behind them; apparently, they planned an ambush. Cyrus drew his sword once again, readying himself for more physical combat, but thankfully the assassins were dispatched easily by the Blades. He didn’t want to know what it was like to actually kill a _person_.

The Blades led the way through the ruins and in the following rooms, they were again ambushed by assassins. They seemed to lurk behind every pillar and on every ledge of the white halls. Cyrus was ordered to stay near the emperor while his guards fended off the attackers, which he was grateful for because it kept him from the front lines. From time to time, he cast healing spells on the Blades, just so he didn’t feel completely useless. He overheard the guards wondering how the assassins could wait for them down here. It seems as if nothing went according to their plan, something Cyrus was used to by now.

Finally, they reached a very tall and large room that looked far more imposing then the other ones they passed. Glenroy suddenly told the other ones to stop.

“I don’t like this. Wait here for a moment.”, he revealed ominously.

Cyrus could feel it too. It was too calm; it was a while since the last time they got attacked. At first, he thought that maybe the assassins gave up and left for good, but that might have been just wishful thinking. Glenroy quietly stepped down a small set of stairs in the middle of the room below and looked around.

“There’s no one here. Let’s go, we almost reached the sewers.”, Glenroy announced and the others made their way down the stairs. This all seemed too convenient. They traversed the room and reached a closed gate at the other end.

“Damnit, the gate is locked from the other side! It’s a trap!”, Glenroy yelled as he drew his sword. But still, no assassins showed up. Somehow, the absence of enemies was far more unnerving than the attacks.

The Redguard Blade broke the silence: “What’s with the passage back there?”. He pointed at a doorway on the other end of the room.

“It’s worth a shot. Let’s go.”, Glenroy answered and proceeded to check it out.

Cyrus and the others followed him. Why was he suddenly getting so nervous? It’s like he felt something coming up. Was the emperor right with his incoherent babbling before?

“It’s a dead end. What are your orders, Sir?”, the Redguard mentioned.

Indeed, behind the doorway was a small empty room. Before anyone could say anything, there was a loud clanging sound of a metal gate being closed followed by the sound of multiple footsteps on stone. This had to be it. The final attack. Cyrus braced himself for the worst. Maybe he should have stayed in his cell in the first place.

“They are behind us! Wait here, Sir!”, Glenroy yelled and stormed out of the room.

“You stay here with the emperor. Protect him with your life!”, the Redguard ordered and followed his fellow Blade into the fight outside.

Sure, leave the life of the most important figure in Tamriel’s history in the hands of some prisoner you literally met a few hours ago, what are they thinking! If Cyrus was nervous and scared before, then he lost it completely by now. He started to panic, what should he do? His hand with Renault’s sword trembled and his eyes darted across the tiny room. This was supposed to be an easy escape, why was everything going so horribly wrong in his life? He almost wished he was back in Inh-Xal. What was he supposed to do if things got rough? Ask the assassins politely to leave? He had no clue of sword fighting, by the Nine!

Suddenly, the voice of the emperor broke his train of thoughts: “I can go no further. You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. He must not have the Amulet of Kings! Take the amulet. Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last son. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion!”.

Carefully, almost reverent, he took off the amulet with the red stone he had been wearing and pressed into Cyrus’ left hand. And with that, the bricks in the wall behind him started to move.

It seemed as if everything slowed down; the sound of fighting outside muted as the secret passage opened. From there, one of the assassins in red robes jumped out, brandishing a jagged dagger. Before Cyrus could react, the assassin struck the emperor from behind, instantly killing him.


	3. Thief

As the corpse of Uriel Septim VII dropped to the floor, Cyrus was still standing there, unable to move a muscle. The assassin stood up, looking at him and the amulet in his hands. Was this what these guys were after? Why did the emperor give him the amulet and make him the target? He wanted nothing to do with this!

Cyrus’ heart sank somewhere near his knees. He feebly put up Renault’s sword to block, but with a single blow the assassins bound dagger knocked it out of his hand and into a corner of the room. A manic grin adorned his face. They circled each other for a while, until the assassin suddenly thrusted forward. Cyrus quickly dodged backwards and stumbled over the emperor’s lifeless body, falling to the ground. The assassin made his way to him, the blade ready to strike, and then…

A blue shine illuminated the room. Cyrus had his hands put up in front of him and did the first thing that came to mind. He had cast a healing spell on the attacker.

“What in Dagon’s name…?”, the assassin mumbled, confused, as the magic energy healed all the wounds he may have had. But that was just enough time Cyrus needed.

He pulled the silver dagger out of the sheath still attached to the emperor’s belt and drove it up until the hilt into the leg of the assassin, which made him collapse backwards, screaming.

Quickly, Cyrus sprang to his feet and scurried through the narrow tunnel the assassin came through, the amulet firmly in his hand. He ran like he never ran before, through another room, a manhole on the floor, down a ladder, through seemingly endless tunnels in what seemed to be a sewer. He had no idea where he was, he just blindly followed corridors in an attempt to get as far away from the assassins as possible. Past rats and goblins, up stairs, over bridges, all without looking back once. Eventually, he reached a long straight corridor where he could make out a bright light at the end. Did he manage to escape, after all this time?

When he opened the metal gate at the end, a beautiful sunset greeted him, making him shield his eyes. He stood at the shore of Lake Rumare, a short walk away from the walls of the Imperial City. In front of him there was a small pier, overgrown with flowers, leading to a small island with the remnants of a white ruin on it. Any brave hero would have walked proudly back into the city by now, having bested countless foes, emerging victorious. Cyrus, on the other hand, just broke down and threw up. The bits of bread and cheese he got before he was thrown into prison made its farewells.

How long has it been? Hours? Days? He couldn’t tell, it was like another life. He just kneeled there, heaving, in the beautiful sunset over the lake. On any other day, he would have appreciated the scenery more. It was supposed to be a nice new start, not… whatever this was. Ever since he escaped from Inh-Xal, nothing has worked out for him. For a while, he just sat there in the grass, but he realized that there was no time to waste. He had to keep moving.

First, he would get back to his new “home”, maybe after a refreshing and cleaning dip in the lake. Then he could work out a plan how to proceed. He could do this; after all, he heroically defended the amulet back in there! … Who was he kidding. He chickened out and, in his panic, _healed_ the attacker, what an idiot move. But still, the ends justify the means, right? As he made his way back to the waterfront district, he constantly debated his unparalleled skill (or his utter ineptitude?).

When he arrived at the harbor, the sun had already set and most of the merchants and sailors were already leaving the formerly busy streets. Cyrus quickly made his way around the wall to the backside, where his shack was located. Before he entered, he briefly stepped into the lake and washed all the grime and, to his shock, blood, away from his ragged clothes. Inside his shack, the air felt comfortably cool and calming. He stored the backpack in the corner of the room and changed into one of his grey priest robes he took with him from Black Marsh. The amulet he kept to himself, it seemed of utmost importance.

Although he felt exceptionally tired and exhausted, the first stop had to be _The Bloated Float_ , he needed to calm down and plan his next steps. He figured that, because only a few people knew that he was supposed to be in prison, it would be safe showing his face in public, as long as he steered clear of Vinicia Melissaeia. To play it safe, he even tried to stay out of the line of sight of the numerous guards patrolling the nightly streets.

Inside _The Bloated Float_ , he was greeted again by the owner. Soon, he found out that his name was Ormil and that he built the tavern by himself. As if he cared right now. After drinking a few beers, he started to recompose himself and collected his thoughts.

Finding Jauffre, that were the emperors last words. Taking the amulet to Jauffre. But who was that? Couldn’t the emperor be more specific? Of course he couldn’t, he was talking gibberish the whole time, wasn’t he? Hence, the first thing he had to do was finding out who that was. Maybe he needed to check the libraries and bookstores first? Yes, that seemed like a good place to start. Cyrus touched the amulet in his pocket, the gem was smooth and cool. He would start to do that right after a good night’s sleep. After all he had been through, he deserved a little breather, right?

With newly found courage and heightened spirits, he looked up to order another beer. At this moment, he felt a shiver running down his spine. Was he being watched? Had the assassins already caught up to him? But before he could start to panic, he spotted the source of this feeling: a Bosmer woman was watching him intently from the other side of the tavern. She had long golden hair tied up in a high ponytail, orange eyes, typical elven, yet delicate and feminine facial features and two pale scars on her left cheek. Clad in a simple woven dress, she sat alone at a table in the corner of the room, looking at him with a slight smile on her face.

Cyrus was awestruck. Was this how love felt? Since he moved here, so much things changed so rapidly, this might as well happen. As a priest, he lived as a celibate up until now and had no clue how to deal with these situations. Not that he would have chances with anyone anyways. As the woman stood up and walked towards him, it made him even more nervous. He started sweating again and forced himself to show a smile, but all he could manage was a weird grimace. He only got out of a horrible situation in the catacombs, couldn’t he get a break for once? The closer she got, the more interested in him she seemed to get.

As she finally stood before him, he realized that she was a lot shorter than he expected, probably only reaching up to his chin. Not unusual for a Bosmer like her, but it kind of made him chuckle. Somehow, he had the vague feeling as if he had seen her already, but he couldn’t figure out when or where.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, she asked, with a calm and melodic voice while pointing to the empty stool next to him.

“No!”, Cyrus squeaked. He wondered if he was more or less scared than a few hours ago when he was directly threatened by the person who killed the emperor of Tamriel.

“What is it, don’t you want to order a drink for me, too?”, the Bosmer said in a honeyed voice, slightly tilting her head. He figured she might have been around the same age as him, maybe slightly younger.

“O-of course. Ormil, get this lady a beer… please.”, Cyrus answered. All his life he wished for something like this to happen, but now that it came to pass, all he wanted was to get up and run away. A look into his coin pouch didn’t make him more motivated either, he had barely any gold left.

“The name’s Vanyael, I’m a merchant. What about you?”, the Elf inquired.

“My name? That is, I mean, I am… They call me Cyrus. Cyrus Amentius.”, Cyrus stammered. _Way to go, idiot._

“Oh, what a lovely name! And what do you do for a living? You don’t strike me as the commoner type.”, Vanyael asked, sweet as ever.

“Well, I used to be a priest of Akatosh, but… I-I don’t know.”, Cyrus replied sheepishly. It seemed as if he couldn’t add anything to this conversation.

“A priest, huh? Should have known from the clothes.”, Vanyael added with a smile and a suggestive look in her face, “Do you live around here?”.

 _Woah._ Where was she going with that? Was this all it took to take a woman to your home? He saw these things happen all too often while he was visiting the tavern in Inh-Xal, but he never expected it to happen to him. He was not ready for that sort of commitment; he wanted to get to know her better before.

“I…yes, yes. Right around the corner actually, only recently moved in here, heh heh…”, Cyrus said, violently gesticulating. He wanted to vanish from the face of Nirn immediately, this was so embarrassing. Now would be a good time for one of the emperor’s assassins to come and kill him, he thought.

“Hey, hey, no need to get so flustered. I live here in the waterfront district too, you know. Maybe we can… meet up sometime?”, Vanyael whispered. She was uncomfortably close to him now, her eyes kept wandering up and down his body. What was she implying by that? The women in Cyrodiil were way too easy! Cyrus’ face turned beet red.

“I… I… I don’t know, maybe…”, he stammered, but he didn’t need to go any further.

“Anyways, I have to go now. See you around!”, Vanyael said, her voice a lovely chant.

With that, she got up from the stool and, with a wink, pranced through the room towards the exit. Cyrus was relieved, he had experienced enough emotionally draining situations for one day. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, but he would come back here tomorrow, if only for talking to her again. After having planned out his next steps and this chance encounter with Vanyael, he was in a better mood, so he decided to call it a night.

After he paid for the beers, he made his way back to his shack. He suddenly realized that most of the people in Cyrodiil didn’t know of the death of the emperor yet and wondered how the mood in the tavern would have been if everyone knew. Anyways, he had an important job to do, and he needed to make sure that he was well rested for it. Soon, he reached his new home and started to undress. For the first time since he moved here, he actually lied down in his bed. It was dusty and smelled old, but still was mostly clean and comfortable. At least not worse than the one he owned in Inh-Xal. And so, it didn’t take long for him to fall into a heavy sleep.

He was in the middle of a dream about him heroically saving Cyrodiil from a pack of giant rats, when he abruptly woke up, feeling a presence nearby. A cold wind blew through his shack. How could that be? He closed all windows before he went to bed… He opened his eyes and stared directly into a pair of orange eyes, just inches away from his face. Again, an unmanly scream came out of his mouth, but this time it was muffled almost immediately by a hand in leather gloves.

“Ah-ah-ah, don’t make a sound or this will end in a mess!”, a familiar voice said.

These eyes… On top of him, pressing his arms and legs to the bed, kneeled Vanyael, the beautiful Wood Elf woman from the tavern. Cyrus didn’t know if he should have been excited or scared. In contrast to the attire she wore in at the inn, she was dressed in dark leather armor with a hooded cloak, and Cyrus remembered where he had seen her before: she was one of the shady looking people that were standing around in a backyard when he first arrived at the waterfront district.

“Now tell me… where is it?”, Vanyael asked, and her voice lost more and more the sweet touch it had when she was talking to him at the tavern. He decided that he was more scared than excited right now and that he liked her charming side much more. Slowly she began removing her hand from his mouth.

“Where is what?”, Cyrus whispered.

“The amulet. The one with the big red gem in it. I saw it in your pocket when you entered the tavern earlier.”, she stated with quiet voice. Cyrus could feel her ponytail tickle on the side of his face.

“What do you want with it? Are you one of them? An assassin?”, he asked, his voice starting to tremble. If that was true, he was done for. On the other hand, he would probably be dead already if that was the case, so what was going on?

“What? What assassins?”, Vanyael asked. She seemed confused and weirdly flustered for a second, but quickly got back her composure. “No, I’m no assassin. I’m merely a thief. A professional one, if you will. And that amulet looked like it may be worth a lot, so I ask you again: Where is it?”.

 _Phew._ Cyrus felt relieved. Only a thief. They haven’t found him, yet. Still, no favorable situation to be in, but better than getting killed immediately.

“Hey, why are you looking so calm and relieved right now? Don’t you understand your situation?”, Vanyael asserted, now with a hint of anger in her voice.

“I mean… I AM scared, but not as scared as I COULD be I guess…”, Cyrus answered truthfully. Vanyael snapped. She jumped up from the bed and drew a dagger from her belt.

“Maybe this will make you more scared!”, she yelled, her eyes growing wider.

As she stood there, holding the dagger to his throat, breathing heavily, she looked severely unhinged. But she was right. It did, in fact, make him more scared. She seemed to notice that too, because she asked once again: “Where is it? Give it to me!”. Why was she so adamant about it? It didn’t seem very professional, it was almost as if she was personally involved.

“You… _really_ need the money, don’t you?”, Cyrus managed to ask.

“What? Why would I…?”, Vanyael started, but Cyrus could already tell. The grip around her dagger loosened, she became unfocused. A truly professional thief would have either killed him already or stole the amulet without waking him up. The way she acted, she probably disliked it as well or was in some way too emotionally involved.

“It’s okay, I am dirt poor and in debt, too. You don’t have to do this.”, Cyrus said, trying to calm her down, “Besides…”. He used her brief lack of attention and quickly grabbed the dagger in her hand, pulling it out of her grasp. “…I can’t give you the amulet. It’s too important.”, Cyrus finished, sounding surprisingly confident and brave. _Nailed it._ He really wanted to pat his own shoulder right now.

Vanyael just stood there, looking at him. Slowly, a smile formed on her face, which quickly turned into laughter. Why was _she_ laughing all of a sudden, if he just professionally disarmed her? Cyrus looked down and slowly realized. Blood dripped from his hand onto his bed. He had grabbed the dagger on the blade cutting his whole hand with it. Figures, he was not even granted the smallest victory without making a fool of himself.

On the plus side, the mood lightened after this.

As it turned out, Vanyael had similar problems like he did. After he healed himself that night, they ended up talking for a while. Apparently, she owed the local underworld bosses a lot of gold and took on work for some institution called the “Thieves Guild”. To him, it seemed like nothing more than loosely organized crooks, but according to her, they were righteous people fighting for equality or whatever. The problem was, that she was not that good of a thief. Vanyael stated that she was reasonably good at sneaking around, but she lacked the patience to become great at the art of larceny.

She ultimately decided to leave him be for the night, but they met again the next day at the _Bloated Float_ tavern. After they got to know each other a bit better, Vanyael seemed to be much more laidback than Cyrus first thought. The cute and sweet demeanor she originally greeted him with were nothing but a façade, to lull him in. She also seemed to be very interested in his story about the emperor and the amulet (although he left out a few details, especially the fact that he was constantly scared out of his wits and maybe added things like himself taking on ten assassins at once).

Since the news about the death of the emperor were out by morning, he simply had to tell someone. As weird as it was, he had the feeling he made a connection with Vanyael that night and that he could trust her. _Bonding over poverty and a stabbed hand, marvelous._ She even offered him her help in finding out about Jauffre, which he was happy for because he had no exact plans by himself. Her plan was to meet up in the afternoon in the market district, and even if he was still somewhat wary of her actual motives, he decided to go.

They met in front of a book store called “The First Edition”. Similar to his original idea, they decided to get more information about Jauffre first. Vanyael, now dressed in simple clothes again, stated that she would go in, apparently knowing the guy running the shop. Because of that, she maybe could persuade him to tell her about Jauffre and even give her a book or two.

Cyrus, who had no better idea himself agreed and waited outside next to the door, ensuring that no one else entered the store and interrupted her. After a few minutes, he was already bored. What took her so long? But then he saw something that made his heart skip a beat: Three soldiers marched into the market district, each of them clad in the same ornate armor as the emperor’s guards. They had to be Blades, too. Were they looking for him? The way things ran back then, he had no time to explain to them what happened, to them it may have looked like he stole the amulet and ran, or maybe they even thought that he helped the assassins?

The first one of them stopped to talk to a nearby guard, while the other two kept looking left and right, as if they were searching for something… or _someone_. If they walked further down the road, they would see him, Cyrus had to act fast. He quickly traversed the street and bolted into an inner courtyard behind the tall buildings. Crouching between a few large elder bushes, he held his breath. Bugs and ants started to crawl all over him, as he heard the Blades draw closer, their armor rattling. _Please don’t look here, please don’t look here!_ They walked into his sight… and then left. The Blades marched straight past the bushes and left the market district through one of the big gates.

Cyrus had to giggle out of relief, which severely scared a beggar that was standing next to the bushes the whole time. Cyrus didn’t even realize he was there, but he didn’t care. He didn’t know what would have happened, but he wasn’t ready to go back to jail… or worse. At this moment, Vanyael exited the bookstore.

“Uh… what exactly are you doing in that bush?”, she asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Nothing. What about the books?”, Cyrus hushed, hastily scrubbing all insects off that had accumulated on his head and clothes.

“Well, I did acquire one, here. “Places of Worship: The Nine Divines”.”, she cited, “the guy meant he read about someone called Jauffre in there. Let’s take a look.”.

Back at the _Bloated Float_ , Vanyael and Cyrus took a table far away from other patrons. What did a book about the Nine Divines have to do with a guy associated with the emperor? He skimmed through the pages, Vanyael watching over his shoulder, which made it very awkward. It was a book about the locations of chapels, monasteries and shrines of different gods, including additional information about each of them. He almost gave up hope, thinking that Vanyael probably just got pranked, as he saw the name he was looking for.

“…the Weynon Priory, currently lead by Brother Jauffre, located east of Chorrol…”. _That’s it, he’s a monk?_ How would a monk be helpful with “destroying the Prince of Destruction” or whatever the emperor said? Vanyael seemed to be disappointed too.

“Maybe it’s just another person with that name?”, she considered.

“Maybe, but it’s our only lead so far, so let’s follow it.”, Cyrus replied. He stood up, planning to leave immediately. Delivering the amulet and getting rid of at least one of his current problems. “Thanks for your help, anyway. If there’s anything I can do for you in return…”.

“Take me with you.”, Vanyael answered instantly.

“What now?”, Cyrus asked, confused.

“Take me with you. The adventure you’re about to begin seems much more fun and exciting than stealing stuff for the guild. More lucrative, too.”, she suggested, an eerie glow showing in her eyes.

“I… I don’t know… I just need to deliver the amulet…”, Cyrus began, but was interrupted by her.

“Besides, you told me you are not very proficient in physical combat, only in restoration magic. That won’t get you very far in battles. There is no way you can take all of this responsibility on your own. You _need_ someone who can actually get things done.”.

She had a point. He couldn’t keep on walking around constantly healing himself while slashing blindly forward, it was painful and not very effective. Maybe he should let her come with him, wasn’t that what he wanted back then? Going on adventures in a group? But something told him not to pick Vanyael, she didn’t seem to get the full gravity of the situation.

“It is settled then. We’ll meet tomorrow morning in the market district, put together basic gear and provisions and start our adventure by travelling to Chorrol!”, Vanyael announced proudly, reaching him her hand.

Even if he was unsure, Cyrus agreed, hesitantly shaking hands. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference if he declined, anyway. Vanyael seemed to be the assertive type, so he let her be. And with this, he acquired his first adventuring companion.

That night, he slept fitfully again. Dreams about rugged landscapes in a sea of flames plagued his mind, together with visions of crudely chiseled towers out of black stone… He woke up in sweat. In a book, these would be prophetic dreams of some sort, but he cast aside that idea. It was probably just the stress getting to him.

It was already bright outside, so he hurried while putting his robe on and taking the rugged backpack he found while escaping the prison. On the way to the market district, he noticed that there were less people walking around the city. Apparently, there was a big event in the arena, someone challenged the incumbent champion or something. At any rate, it made it harder to blend in with the crowd and evading eye contact with guards, since he still feared getting jailed again.

Eventually arriving at the marketplace, he sold all of the rusty weapons and assorted gear he found on his escape, and in return got a nice shortsword made out of steel. He decided that he would stick with one-armed swords as a secondary weapon after his restoration magic, just in case. Maybe, if he had more gold at a time, he could take lessons and actually get better at it. It’s not as if he just magically got better at something by doing it a lot.

Vanyael waited outside a small tavern called “ _The Feed Bag_ ”, now wearing her cloaked dark leather armor again. The dagger that she threatened him with dangled at her side, and a matching bow and arrows were strapped on her back.

“What is this, Dwemer metal?”, Cyrus asked.

“Yes, nice of you to notice!”, Vanyael replied happily, as if he just gave her a compliment about her hair. Dwemer weapons tended to be rather strong, stronger than regular iron and steel at least.

“Are you ready? I packed provisions for a few days.”, she added.

She was surprisingly dependable and seemed happy and excited. Cyrus wished he could share her motivation. He affirmed, and together they left the city, past the Imperial Palace and the residential Talos Plaza, out onto the Imperial Bridge that connected the City Isle with the mainland.

“What is Chorrol, anyway?”, Cyrus asked as they made their way over the long bridge.

“It’s one of the nine larger cities in Cyrodiil, located northwest of the Imperial City close to the Colovian Highlands. Seriously, you should just get a map or something.”, Vanyael answered with a smirk.

While he was educated in history and magic, his geographic knowledge outside of Black Marsh was severely lacking. On the other end of the bridge, they arrived at a small settlement called Weye, as Vanyael explained to him. It consisted out of a few simple wooden houses, it was even tinier than Inh-Xal. They didn’t get far into the village before they were approached by an old man wearing fishermen’s clothing.

“You know, stranger, in the life of every man there comes a time when he is forced to admit that he lost the battle. Well, I have fought and was defeated.”, he said in a grave voice. What kind of introduction was that? Vanyael seemed to be weirded out by this guy, too.

“Who are you, and what do you mean?”, Cyrus asked, and the old guy answered: “My name is Aelwin Merowald, and you wonder who defeated me? Who my arch-enemy might be? You will laugh… it’s a bunch of fish.”. He was right, Cyrus was really tempted to laugh. After all this dramatic exposition, the reveal felt somewhat anticlimactic.

“Yeah, good luck with that, we just…”, Vanyael started but Cyrus interrupted her: “How can we help?”. This was his chance to behave like an adventurer would. Also, maybe he could earn money by helping some old guy with his troubles. Vanyael looked at him like he lost his mind.

“Go on, laugh at me… Wait. You want to help me? Oh, well… I’m a fisherman. Or at least I was one, until one of these slaughterfish nearly bit my leg off. I was collecting their scales, you know. I had an arrangement with a young alchemist, you would not believe what he paid me for them!”, Aelwin explained. By the mention of the value of the scales, Vanyael suddenly became interested again.

“Last month, one of these damned animals got my leg. Since then, I can’t work anymore. But this alchemist needs the scales now, immediately.”, Aelwin continued.

“About those scales…”, Vanyael suddenly chimed in.

“The alchemist paid so much for the scales, that I almost put aside enough to retire. But now I can’t get into the lake anymore… not with that leg. I only needed twelve scales, I almost had it! I tell you what: From my travels, I gathered a lot of things. If you go and get me the twelve scales I still need, it will not be to your disadvantage. The special Rumare Slaughterfish in question have their spawning grounds around here, they should be easy to find. Will you help an old fisherman?”, Aelwin concluded.

Of course they would, especially if they got a reward. Vanyael seemed especially motivated, so they made their way down to the beach next to the village and the bridge.

It didn’t take them long to notice that they had no clue how to go on about this.

Neither of them was too keen on actually swimming around in the murky water to attack the fish up close, nor did they have fishing rods. Not that it would work anyways, slaughterfish were fairly large and very strong, they would have broken down any fishing rod in seconds.

“So… Do you have a plan?”, Vanyael asked after a while of them just standing silently at the shore, staring at the school of fish visible out in the water.

“No, do you?”, Cyrus answered. Some adventurers they were.

“Actually…”, Vanyael responded, looking as if she suddenly had an idea. Excited, she readied her bow.

“Do you want to… shoot the fish?”, Cyrus exclaimed tonelessly. This did not seem to be the best strategy.

“I’ll have you know, I’m a skilled marksman, just watch!”, Vanyael exclaimed and proceeded to draw an arrow.

Cyrus had to admit, it looked spectacular as she shot arrow after arrow into the lake, she really was skilled at it, just…

“You didn’t hit a single one.”, Cyrus declared.

The lake was now littered with dozens of floating arrows.

“How could that be?”, Vanyael asked, severely agitated and disappointed.

It was the refraction, Cyrus thought. She probably forgot that through the surface, the fish seemed to be further away than they actually were. That or the fish were simply to deep in the water for the arrows to reach them.

“Seems like you need to go in after all.”, he suggested.

“Like I would get undressed in front of you! You go in, I already tried my best!”, Vanyael replied brashly, folding her arms.

 _Ugh._ Just when he thought travelling in a group would make things easier, he had to do everything by himself again. Defeated, he proceeded to take off his robe. It felt really embarrassing, standing there on the shore of Lake Rumare, dressed only in underwear. The snickering of Vanyael didn’t help either.

Soon, he figured out that all came back to the old tactic he used in the catacombs while escaping the prison: constantly healing himself from the injuries while swinging his sword downwards at the attacking fish. The old man did not exaggerate, the fish had quite the bite and aggressively attacked anyone coming near them. Meanwhile, Vanyael comfortably sat around in the sand, quietly observing him while nibbling on a wedge of cheese. Occasionally, she laughed at him when he was once again bitten or screamed in surprise. He already regretted taking her with him.

Fighting against the fish was extremely exhausting, he could use only one hand to swim while he used the other hand to strike at the creatures that so desperately tried to devour him. But after a few hours (with multiple breaks), he finally managed to get twelve of them. After he dragged all of them to the beach, he left it to Vanyael to flay them, which he was glad about because it seemed like a disgusting job.

The sun was already setting when they finally made their way back up to Weye with twelve slaughterfish scales in their inventory. Vanyael absolutely _reeked_ of fish at that point, so Cyrus made sure to stay a few feet away from her. They found Aelwin at the local tavern, the _Wawnet Inn_.

“By the Nine! You have the scales! Thank you! There are still friendly souls in the world.”, he exclaimed happily, “I will give you this ring in return. I can’t use it myself anymore, but someone like you may find it useful. Thank you, strangers. You were nice to me, and I will think of you in the long and nice time ahead of me.”.

And with that, he gave Cyrus a small golden ring, emblazoned with something that looked like a drop of water. Apparently, it was called the “Jewel of the Rumare” and made its wearer able to breathe underwater while fortifying his physical fitness. _Yaaay._

“That’s it? A single ring?”, Vanyael later stated disappointedly, while they were sitting at one of the tables in the well-frequented inn after a quick bath.

It was true, Cyrus thought they would finally achieve riches, and after all the work they had, an enchanted ring seemed not worth it. But still, he was going to keep it, maybe it would be useful in the future. After a few drinks, they decided it was too late to keep on travelling to Chorrol, so they postponed it until the next day and rented two rooms for the night at the tavern.

As he finally dropped exhausted onto the bed, he could not help but feel happy and satisfied. It may not have been the most amazing reward, but they helped someone, and he had the feeling of being a true adventurer and actually making a difference in the world. And just like that, he fell into a deep sleep. But just like the night Vanyael visited him, he woke up in the middle of the night again, feeling a presence nearby.

“Long time no see, _Lame_ ntius”, a raspy voice proclaimed.

 _No._ How could it be? He thought he left all his old problems in Black Marsh when he fled. Cyrus opened his eyes, and in the light of the single lamp in his room he could see the imposing figure of Scar-Tail, the assassin, looming over him in front of an open window. And he did not look happy.


	4. The Road Most Travelled

“You’re hard to find, I’ll give you that.”, Scar-Tail jeered.

By the Nine, what did he do wrong in his life to deserve this? Why did Scar-Tail follow him, and how did he find him? Cyrus crawled to the top end of his bed, sitting with the back to the wall. Maybe there was a small chance to reason with him?

“Oh, hey, long time no see, Scar-Tail, old friend! What brings you here on this nice evening? I hope your journey here was more pleasant than mine…”, he started, having difficulties keeping his voice steady. Scar-Tail was having none of it.

“Do you think I came all the way here to listen to you wimp talk? Don’t you remember what I told you, back in Inh-Xal? About _accidents_?”.

Cyrus remembered clear as day. How was he supposed to get out of this, now? Scar-Tail stood in the way to the door, and there was no way he could contact Vanyael without him knowing. He had to keep stalling.

“How did you find me, anyways?”, Cyrus asked. Scar-Tail seemed proud, enough to actually boast some more.

“Oh, you know, being a Shadowscale, I have my ways and contacts, even outside Black Marsh. Tracking you down wasn’t the hard part.”. For some reason, he briefly hesitated for a second, before continuing: “Anyways, let’s get back to the task at hand.”. He drew a dangerous looking dagger from the sheath on his hip. “It’s laced with one of the strongest poisons I know of. Want to try it out?”, Scar-Tail explained sadistically.

Cyrus could hear loud voices from downstairs. What was going on? But he didn’t have time to focus on the commotion, as Scar-Tail proceeded to lift the dagger above him.

“Say goodbye to the world, _Lame_ ntius!”, Scar-Tail yelled, and Cyrus closed his eyes, limply putting his hands up in a faltering attempt to protect himself.

For the millionth time in the past few days, he was scared for his life, he was almost getting used to it. But to die just now, after he had his first day of adventuring? What a shame.

 _Blam._ Behind Scar-Tail, the door to the room was thrown open.

“Cyrus, we have to get out of here. There are soldiers in strange armor downstairs who are looking for… Huh?”, a surprised and slightly out of breath Vanyael stated. Scar-Tail seemed to be just as shocked as her: “Huh?”.

 _Huh?_ But Cyrus came to his senses quickly; he used this brief moment of confusion to kick the dagger out of Scar-Tails hands into the corner of the room.

“What do you think you are doing!”, Scar-Tail screamed, just as a lot of events followed in quick succession.

Cyrus just grabbed his backpack, when he felt Vanyael’s hand grip his forearm. He then had the sudden feeling of being doused in warm water, followed by a group of Blades showing up in front of the door.

Scar-Tail was looking frantically through the room, turning his gaze from Cyrus to the newly arrived guards. The Blades seemed to be confused too, as they stopped dead in their tracks. Cyrus felt Vanyael pulling him with her, past Scar-Tail and to the window. He climbed out of it behind her, wondering why Scar-Tail or the Blades didn’t try to stop him.

As he looked back, he saw the Blades drawing their swords, just as Scar-Tail dived for the dagger that Cyrus kicked away. He could hear screams and metal clanging as they escaped onto the thatched roof.

Jumping down onto a few old barrels, Cyrus began to realize what was going on. But where was Vanyael? He could feel her grip, but he couldn’t see her. In fact, he couldn’t see anything. His own arm and the backpack he was holding seemed to have vanished, too. Did he get hit by the dagger anyway and was hallucinating now due to the poison?

He must have gasped, because Vanyael explained: “Don’t freak out, it’s just an invisibility spell, I cast it on both of us as I realized what a sticky situation we’re in. It should disperse any second now.”.

And just as she said that, she and his hands suddenly came into view again, emanating a brief green shimmer. Illusion magic, of course; often used by thieves as tools of manipulating others, how could he forget? Somehow, he didn’t expect Vanyael to be a user of any kind of magic in the first place.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize…”, Cyrus admitted sheepishly.

They ran through the night, out of Weye and into the exterior ruins of an old Imperial fort. Behind some overgrown walls, they finally took a rest.

“Who in Nocturnal’s name was that?”, Vanyael asked, out of breath. She peered over the ivy-covered wall, back towards Weye and the inn they just escaped from.

Cyrus collapsed on the ground next to her, with his back to the wall. Ever since he arrived in Cyrodiil, it felt like he did nothing but run away from scary events. Once again, he realized that he was severely lacking in stamina for these kinds of endeavors.

“Oh that, that was… an acquaintance from my hometown.”, Cyrus replied tonelessly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drag her into this mess.

“Didn’t seem much like an acquaintance, if you ask me. What exactly did you do back in… Black Marsh, was it? Is there something about you that I should know?”, Vanyael inquired. She had a stern look on her face and it seemed as if her large orange eyes stared right into his soul.

“Well, I… I may have _kind of_ offended a professional assassin. Like, an _official_ professional assassin. To be fair, he had it coming, but that may not have been my smartest idea, I admit.”, Cyrus explained, “This is … also part of the reason why I am here in Cyrodiil right now. Though I didn’t expect him to catch up with me that quickly.”. He tried his best to show her a confident smile, but her pitiful expression made it clear that it didn’t work.

“An assassin you say, huh…”. For a brief moment, Vanyael trailed off and seemed to be lost in thought, before she abruptly came back to her senses and continued: “That means we have to stay extra careful from now on!”. A big mischievous smile adorned her face. Her overzealous attitude was back in an instant, she seemed almost excited and happy about this.

“Seriously, I don’t think you should get involved in all of this, it’s my problem and I’m sure Scar-Tail… I mean, the assassin, he will eventually give up, so…”, Cyrus tried to explain, but once again she didn’t let him finish.

“Oh come on, from all I have seen so far, you are exactly as pathetic in serious situations as I expected. I did the right thing to follow you on your journey, you probably wouldn’t last one day out here without before getting killed by a wild animal or something. Divines, you can be happy I’m not demanding a high fee for my services as your guard!”.

Her snarky comments were followed by a silly chuckle. Someone was in a bizarrely jovial mood, given the situation they were in. Cyrus intended to object, but she was partially right about his uselessness and he really didn’t want to admit that right now Besides, ever since they met a few days ago she seemed to be dependable and trustworthy, so he decided to humor her, even if it was just for this night.

“Yeah, thanks for… well, everything so far.”. There was nothing more that he could come up with, he felt mentally and physically exhausted.

“Oh, look at that, there still exist men in Cyrodiil with proper etiquette, who would have thought.”. Vanyael beamed at him. “So, what’s the next step?”. Again with the snappiness.

“I, uuuh… I mean…”, Cyrus stammered but trailed off. The plan was to spend the night at the inn, but they couldn’t do that now, could they?

“As I expected, you really didn’t plan ahead. If you keep this up, you won't get any sleep tonight because you’ll be busy praising me. Behold!”.

With a lot of unnecessary bravado, she produced two rolled-up sleeping bags from her backpack. Damn, she really did think of everything.

“By the way, care to tell me the story behind those weird guards that are searching for you, too? You seem to be a popular guy tonight.”, Vanyael asked while the two of them were preparing their resting places for the night.

“I guess they were members of the Blades, you know, the guards that tried to escort the emperor back then? They might think I stole the stupid amulet, since none of them were around when… when it happened.”.

“Ah, so that is why you were hanging out in the bushes the other day!”, Vanyael concluded. Why did she have to be so sharp at times like this? “Kind of funny how you left out that part in your original story, huh?”.

Vanyael’s voice sounded sickeningly sweet, and coupled with her teasing facial expression, Cyrus pondered the possibility of her actually being a demon straight out of Oblivion instead of a regular elf. What did he do to deserve this?

“Whatever, go ahead and take some rest. I will stay on guard for now in case Scar-Tail or the Blades find us.”, she stated, now back to a more serious topic. Cyrus realized this was the first longer conversation he held with Vanyael and he already felt like he was having trouble keeping up with her.

“You really don’t have to do that, let me be on the lookout. After all, you saved my life just now.”, Cyrus replied. He got up and peeked over the wall. “Besides, I…”.

But as he looked back towards Vanyael, he realized that she was already tucked into her sleeping bag and fast asleep next to him, her armor pieces and weaponry neatly stacked next to her.

 _What on Nirn?_ He expected at least a little bit of fighting back from her!

As the sun rose again, Cyrus was a wreck. He felt the same way like on that one morning back in Inh-Xal. In the end, he stood guard for the whole night with Vanyael snoring away. Thankfully, it was late summer and the nights weren’t that cold and thankfully, neither Scar-Tail nor the Blades showed up anywhere near their hideout.

“Good morning!”, Vanyael greeted him energetically, stretching extensively. .“Woah, you look like a guar’s butt! Where you staying up all night?”. With that, she recoiled a little.

“Your snoring would have kept me awake anyways, even if I would have tried to sleep.”, Cyrus managed to say, although he was more mumbling to himself.

“Don’t take your grumpiness out on me, now. You could have woken me up and we could have switched, you know. But I appreciate your kindness in letting me have my beauty sleep. You would need it more than me, though.”, Vanyael retorted with a big smirk.

“Yeah, whatever.”. Cyrus was too exhausted to argue with her right now.

In reality, he felt like he owed her for saving him that night. Also, he was too paranoid that Scar-Tail would come back and subdue Vanyael somehow while he was asleep, so he wanted to take it in his own hands.

“Alright, just wait a minute, I have something right here that will fix you up…”, she exclaimed and energetically jumped up from her sleeping bag.

Involuntarily, Cyrus flinched and averted his eyes, half expecting her to be in her underwear, but as he glimpsed back, he realized she was wearing something that, on first glance, appeared to be a large burlap sack; the kind you keep potatoes in. But that meant…

“Hey, didn’t you say yesterday that you didn’t want to take your armor off to help and hunt the slaughterfish because you didn’t want to get undressed? What’s with that outfit then?”, Cyrus inquired.

“Oh that… yeah, I just didn’t feel like going for a swim, that’s all. Besides, this is more of a nightwear kind of thing.”, she answered casually while rummaging through her backpack.

How blunt, but at least she was honest about it. Cyrus raised a finger to say something but was interrupted by Vanyael turning around.

“Tadaaah!”. Together with a small packed breakfast, she showed him a little flask containing a green liquid.

“Here, drink that, it will make you feel better. After that, let’s have a nice breakfast and make our way to Chorrol!”.

A potion for restoring stamina, Cyrus knew those well. Why didn’t he think of stocking up on potions for this trip? He was more and more glad that he let Vanyael come along, she seemed much more used to this than he was. After all, she even thought about bringing nightwear, of all things.

Despite it not being his first stamina potion, the effects never ceased to amaze him. It felt like his exhaustion was whisked away nearly instantly and he could almost hear the figurative gears in his head starting to turn again. Vanyael must have realized a change in his facial expression, too, since she started snickering, but he just glared at her and together, they started breakfast.

After packing up and leaving last night’s hideout, they finally made their way up a steep road to the northwest. Soon, the lush grasslands that surrounded Lake Rumare were replaced by a dense forest. The road winded its way up to a plateau, where they could see the Imperial City in the distance. In front of them, another old Imperial fort came into view, the road leading right through the main keep.

Cyrus remembered, old forts like these were strewn all over Tamriel, relics of ancient wars in which the old emperors conquered new lands. “ _Fort Ash_ ”, a weathered wooden sign next to the entrance proclaimed. As they made their way up towards the looming tower, Vanyael started to get seemingly nervous and fidgety. Was there something to these ruins he didn’t know? But nothing happened. They traversed the small courtyard in the middle and just as he stepped outside of the ruin again, a figure approached him from the bushes.

A Khajiit (catlike people from the land of Elsweyr) clad in fur armor, was running towards him. Before Cyrus could say anything, he demanded: “Your gold or your life!”.

It was an ambush. The bandit used the cover of the fort to surprise travelers. Cyrus quickly turned to Vanyael to find out what they should be doing, but she was gone. _Seriously?_ How could she just leave him in this situation! He was so furious, he didn’t even answer the bandit, which apparently made him very confused.

“Didn’t you hear? Give me all your gold!”, the Khajiit urged once again. As a novice adventurer, it was obvious what the right course of action was. Cyrus immediately grabbed his coin pouch and got ready to put it in the awaiting Khajiit’s hand (or was it a paw?), just a Dwemer arrow came out of nowhere, hitting the bandit right between the eyes.

The arrow cleanly pierced through the Khajiit’s skull, before his corpse fell to the floor in front of Cyrus. Alright, he _really_ didn’t want or need to see that up close, at this early hour. Once again, he kneeled down and gave in to his urge to throw up. _Bye-bye, breakfast._ Something about this felt really familiar.

“Did you see that? I got him really good, didn’t I!”, Vanyael’s voice exclaimed happily. As he retched, Cyrus saw Vanyael suddenly appearing next to him again.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING! WHY DIDN’T YOU AT LEAST TELL ME WHAT YOU WERE DOING!”, Cyrus yelled as he wiped his mouth, “YOU JUST VANISHED AND THEN, BOOM!”.

He was furious. All the annoyance that he bottled up the night before started to overflow.

“Hey, at least I did get the job done. You should be grateful that he did not take all your gold! Besides, there was no time to fill you in on everything!”, Vanyael replied, also almost yelling.

Well, she did have a point. Maybe he should be thankful after all, again. But something still irked him in the way she handled the situation. Cyrus huffed.

“Alright. Thanks. Let’s just… get away from here.”, he finally brought out, clenching his teeth.

“I think that just won’t do.”, a coarse male voice answered.

Both of them spun around, just to see half a dozen men and women gathering at the fort. There were archers on the upper floors of the forts broken balconies and a few rough looking guys with swords right in front of them. _Great._

“See what you did? You angered these gentlemen! If we just apologize then maybe…”, Cyrus started, directing it more at Vanyael than anyone else. But as he expected, it was of no use.

The fight that broke out was utterly chaotic.

Vanyael immediately vanished again, leaving him to fend of multiple people attacking him with swords. Again, he nearly constantly healed himself to compensate for the lack of defense, while blindly swinging his shortsword at them. While dancing around and trying to evade the most fatal blows of the bandits, arrows flew through the air around him out of all directions, he couldn’t make out who shot them. But with time, he realized that they were actually _winning._ There were dead bandits on the floor, and he thought he saw Vanyael a few times, jumping around ledges and hiding behind pillars. Cyrus himself was able to hit them a few times, but not enough to take them out. Somehow, he was still reluctant to kill other human (or elven) beings.

After a while, the fort stood silent once again. The battle was over, and they were victorious. Vanyael dropped down elegantly from a higher up floor, looking really pleased with herself.

“We did it!”, she exclaimed.

“Yeah, we did…”, Cyrus replied, exhausted.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy about that, too. He wished that he had a more passive part in the whole ordeal, though. He was a healer for Akatosh’s sake, no fighter!

“Say, you seemed awfully tense when we entered this fort. Did you know something like this would happen?”, Cyrus casually asked after a short pause where they caught their breaths. He meant to the whole time, but the bandits interrupted him. Vanyael’s face petrified.

“I… I mean… there are rumors that things like this tend to happen frequently around these parts, so…”, Vanyael stammered.

“Then, why did you lead us here? Wouldn’t it have been safer to go around?”, Cyrus inquired calmly, a slight smile on his face. He severely tried to suppress his anger once again.

“Well I thought it would be just… shorter and more convenient this way, right? Also, bandits usually carry a lot of gold with them and…”, Vanyael answered with an embarrassed look on her face.

“SHORTER? CONVENIENT?”, Cyrus now yelled once more: “THERE WERE ALMOST A DOZEN OF ARMED BANDITS HERE, AND YOU THINK THAT’S CONVENIENT? WE COULD HAVE DIED!”.

What was wrong with this woman? She clearly didn’t think ahead. He knew there was something up with her when she asked him to take her with him.

“You don’t understand! Why do you think I came with you? Your task… it seemed… profitable. Don’t you realize why I’m not that good of a thief? I’m too impatient, I usually use more straightforward methods. Fighting, extortion. Killing, if I have to.”, she explained.

 _Ah_ , so she was in it for the gold, that explained a lot. Cyrus turned away from her and started to continue his way towards Chorrol. He simply didn’t want to discuss this any further with her. She could go back to the Imperial City for all that he cared; he didn’t need such a foolhardy person around him. He was grateful for her assistance so far, but he couldn’t even imagine the trouble they could get in in the future.

“What are you planning to do? Leaving me here? It’s not like you could do that, you kind of need my skills in battle, don’t you? Besides, if I hadn’t come with you, you would have traversed through the fort anyways because the road leads right through it! So don’t blame this on me!”, Vanyael stated behind him.

Her voice sounded bashful at first, but she was seemingly winning her usual confidence and brashness back with each word. Cyrus stopped. She was right, he couldn’t do this on his own, and probably would have been killed or at least robbed by that highwayman if she had not been there. He cursed his upbringing and mellow character, but he realized he didn’t want to keep a grudge on people. Not that he was particularly resentful to begin with. He could foresee nothing but hardships in their future, but ultimately decided to forgive her.

“…Fair enough. Just… just tell me what you are about to do, this sudden invisibility thing is not very comforting, you know!”, he finally stated,

“Just… why did you become a thief in the first place, if you are better at … this.”, Cyrus asked, while pointing to the heaps of corpses around him, “Wouldn’t an assassins guild or something be a better place for you? Far more straightforward, don’t you think?”.

“Well, you know… as a matter of fact, I tried to get into the Dark Brotherhood, a local gathering of assassins, but…”, Vanyael started, suddenly looking embarrassed again.

“But what?”, Cyrus asked; he had once more a bad feeling about this.

“Meh, they were just not my kind of crowd, you know?”, she answered. It was obvious there was more to the story, but Cyrus didn’t want to push her any further right now. The whole situation was enough to stomach already.

“Very well. Just try to…”.

He didn’t get further than that, before Vanyael interrupted him: “Look, over there! An entrance to the fort, let’s check it out. There’s got to be treasure inside!”.

She was already on her way to the door and, with a sigh, Cyrus followed her.

Originally, Cyrus thought that having Vanyael fight alongside him would greatly reduce the amount of time he himself had to enter physical combat. He hoped he could just do what he was best at: helping her fight the enemies with restoration magic. but he was wrong.

As it turned out, due to her stealthy fighting style, the best way to dispatch the bandits guarding the underground ruins was for him to get their attention, defending against them by repeatedly healing himself while Vanyael kept jumping around support beams and niches, shooting arrows at the unsuspecting victims. He tried to talk it through with her, proposing a more strategic approach, but this is what it came to in the end.

Nothing had changed whatsoever since he escaped the prison and he hated it. He wondered if he could develop his tactic of healing and blind slashing into an official fighting style. The “Heroic Priest” had a nice ring to it, even it was more like “Idiot priest getting into combat situations that are far above his abilities”.

Nonetheless, they managed to clear the ruins of bandits, making the road safer to travel (and amassing a lot of gear and gold in the process). It seems as if life finally turned around. Slowly, at least. He caught himself fantasizing about that, maybe, after the whole amulet thing was over, he could do this as a full-time job together with Vanyael. It would beat working at the market or the church by a mile. He would have to eventually man up and kill people himself, but he didn’t really want to think of that yet.

Soon after they exited the fort and made their way to Chorrol, they passed a small and oddly quiet farm before finally reaching Weynon Priory, a small monastery in the middle of the forest where Jauffre was supposed to live. It consisted of a large main building next to a small plaza, surrounded by a chapel and a modest farming house.

As they drew nearer to the main building, they were greeted by a monk in a black robe: “Hello, my name is Prior Maborel. How can I help you?”.

“I need to talk to Jauffre.”, Cyrus answered briefly. He didn’t want to draw too much attention.

“Oh, he’s upstairs in the main building. Go on.”, the prior answered and walked away towards the chapel. Not sure how things would proceed from now on, Cyrus braced himself and opened the door of the main building.

Whatever things he expected to happen, having a blade at his throat the second he entered was not one of them. The day just kept getting better and better, he could already tell.

“Who are you, and who do you work for?”, an older monk with a tonsure asked sternly.

He held a large two-handed sword right in front of Cyrus’ face. Cyrus didn’t expect him to be that strong, judging from his build and age. The monk seemed more like a frail old man with white hair, someone who tells stories to kids.

“What?”, was all that Cyrus managed to ask.

He heard a clatter behind him, and when he turned his head a bit, he could see Vanyael, disarmed and in a stranglehold by another monk in brown robes. For once he would have been happier seeing her vanish like the last few times.

“Don’t play dumb. We know you killed the emperor and stole the Amulet of Kings! So, I’ll ask you one last time: Who are you, and who are you working for?”, the monk in front of him asked.

Hold on a minute. That old geezer actually thought that he, Cyrus, the pathetic priest who almost can’t hold a sword straight, killed the emperor and _stole_ the amulet? If he hadn’t been so scared, he would have laughed.

“Are you serious? If I would have done all that, why would I come here in the first place?”, Cyrus answered.

He could feel his patience wearing thin, for the millionth time this day. Fear was slowly replaced by anger. The monk seemed to contemplate that for a second, but he apparently was not entirely convinced.

“Liar!”, the monk almost yelled now, “Baurus told me that you were there when it happened, and that the amulet was gone, together with you!”.

“I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHO BAURUS IS FOR AKATOSH’S SAKE!”, Cyrus answered, also yelling now. “HE TOLD ME TO GET THIS THING TO SOMEONE CALLED JAUFFRE, SO HERE! TAKE IT! WHATEVER!”. Cyrus quickly produced the Amulet of Kings from his pocket and tossed it onto the rug on the floor.

Within a second, the monks stern facial expression changed to surprise, then to utter disbelief.

“Piner, keep an eye on him. Could it be that he tells the truth?”, he muttered to the other monk who restrained Vanyael before sheathing his sword on his back and picking up the amulet.

No longer threatened with a blade, Cyrus technically could have tried to flee the scene, but he imagined that to be a very bad idea. The monk in front of him seemed to examine the amulet, turning it in his hands and gently touching the red stone. Cyrus thought that he would probably bite into it next to discern if it’s the real thing.

“Could it be… This IS the Amulet of Kings! And if you didn’t steal it… the emperor gave it to you?”, the monk asked, turning towards Cyrus again. He looked extremely bewildered. Not so big now, Mr. Grumpymonk, are we?

“I told you already, didn’t I? Now, if I may speak to Jauffre, that’s why I came here in the first place. I have to say, this is the worst welcoming of a hero I’ve ever witnessed!”, Cyrus said, and he tried to put as much disdain into his voice as he could, “I don’t have time to waste it by talking to underlings such as you.”. It was so liberating getting all his frustration off his chest.

“I AM brother Jauffre.”, the monk replied shortly.

All the armor of confidence and anger seemed to have fallen off Cyrus, leaving behind only the weak and awkward husk of a person that he really was.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”, was all he could get out. He could hear a snicker behind him, Vanyael must have been released.

“So, if you are finished with your incessant complaining and condescending attitude, may I ask you to follow me upstairs and take a seat? You too, young lady. I want to know exactly what happened, and how.”, Jauffre stated, now in his stern manner again.

He proceeded to walk up the staircase in front of them, and Cyrus together with Vanyael followed him into a large study on the upper floor. Piner, the other monk, closed the door behind him and stood guard.

After everyone sat down around a heavy desk, Cyrus began to explain.

How he left his hometown in Black Marsh, met the emperor and his guards in the prison cell, how he escaped together with them, how they were ambushed by assassins in red hoods and how the emperor was killed, and he fled. He even let out the exaggerations and sugarcoating that he used when he told Vanyael, which earned him multiple disapproving glances from the Elf.

Near the end of his story, the sun had already set, and the early evening was welcomed by a choir of crickets outside. When he was finally finished, he was met with silence. Jauffre seemed to be processing everything he was told while Vanyael looked bored out of the window.

“As unbelievable as your story sounds, I believe you. Only the peculiar fate of Uriel Septim could have led you here, with the Amulet of Kings.”, Jauffre exclaimed after a few seconds. Cyrus felt relieved.

Then Jauffre continued: “Just one more question… why were you in the prison to begin with?”.

For the second time since he arrived at the priory, Cyrus felt like all his strength left his body.

“Yeah, why were you there? You never told me either.”, Vanyael chimed in.

 _I’m already defeated, why are you kicking my corpse?_ Did he really have to live through all the embarrassment again?

“It was… I got arrested for… for indecent exposure.”, Cyrus replied with an empty voice, avoiding looking into anyone’s faces and instead focusing his gaze on the table leg in front of him.

After a moment of silence, Vanyael was the first one to comment on his confession: “WHAT? Disgusting! And I even travelled with you for the past days!”.

“It was an accident, alright? It’s not that I deliberately ripped my robes off and ran around with my nether regions exposed!”, Cyrus cried out.

Vanyael didn’t even look shocked or disgusted, just mightily amused. Was she seriously gloating over his misfortune? Her chuckling slowly grew into outright laughter, adding insult to injury.

“Stop it, STOP IT!”, Cyrus yelled, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, before getting abruptly interrupted by Jauffre.

“I see. Let’s get back to the point, shall we?”.

It was unambiguous that he didn’t condone their bickering, so they both stopped which Cyrus was secretly grateful for.

“So… What were his last words again?”, Jauffre inquired, using his strict attitude again.

“Something about fighting against the _Prince of Destruction_ , giving you the amulet, finding his last son and closing the _jaws of Oblivion_.”, Cyrus repeated, “But what actually does that mean? Who is the _Prince of Destruction_?”. Cyrus didn’t want to defame the emperor after his death, but he could hardly understand anything that he was rambling about.

“The _Prince of Destruction_ he mentioned is none other than Mehrunes Dagon, one of the rulers in the demonic world of Oblivion. Fortunately, the world of the mortals is separated from the Daedra of Oblivion by a magic barrier.”, Jauffre explained.

Mehrunes Dagon? _The_ Mehrunes Dagon? As a priest of the Nine Divines, he was well aware of the existence of Oblivion and the Daedra, and as far as he could remember, Mehrunes Dagon was the lord of one of the sixteen realms of Oblivion, and totally _not_ a being you wanted to mess with. His element was destruction and many people feared him, with good reason.

But what would a Daedric lord gain from the assassination of the current emperor? Assassinations were so common in the Imperial history it was almost a natural cause of death, so how exactly a Daedric prince could be involved was beyond Cyrus. Also, if the barrier was still standing, he would not be a threat, right? As he glanced over to Vanyael, he could see that she looked worried, too. The way things were going, he assumed that maybe the barrier was not as strong as the mortals believed it to be.

Before Cyrus could finish his thoughts, Vanyael broke the silence: “So… what did he mean then by _closing the jaws of Oblivion_ , if the magic barrier protects us? How can it be a threat to us?”. Jauffre shrugged.

“I’m not sure. Only the emperors really know what the coronation rituals mean. The Amulet of Kings is old, very old. Saint Alessia herself obtained it from the Gods. It’s a holy relic with great power.”.

Once again, he turned the amulet in his hands, before continuing: “When an emperor is crowned, he uses the amulet to kindle the Dragonfires in the Temple of One in the Imperial City. Now, with the emperor dead and no heir crowned, the Dragonfires will have died down the first time for centuries. Maybe the Dragonfires protected us from a threat only the emperor knew of.”.

A pensive silence creeped through the room. Nice history lesson, old man, but they were getting nowhere with this. Also, it was getting late and Cyrus could really go for a drink now.

“Anyways, the emperor asked me to find his son. But he has multiple sons, right? Which one did he mean?”, Cyrus asked. A regretful expression adorned Jauffre’s face.

“The sons the public knows of all have been killed in the same night, too. Don’t you read the news?”

Cyrus was shocked by that. He did not read anything since he escaped from the Imperial dungeons. Judging from her face, Vanyael didn’t either.

Jauffre continued: “But there’s another one… I’m one of the few people who know of his existence. Many years ago, I was captain of Uriel’s personal guard, the Blades. One night, Uriel called me into his private chamber. An infant, a little boy was sleeping in a basket. Uriel told me to get him somewhere safe. He didn’t tell me anything about the baby, but I just knew it was his son. From time to time, he asked how the child developed. Now it seems that this son, born a bastard, is the last heir to the Septim throne. If he is still alive.”.

”Well, it seems like you got a lot to do then. Good luck with that. We will see ourselves out. Goodbye.”, Cyrus responded instantly and jumped to his feet.

He could see where this was going, and he really didn’t want to get dragged into this mess any further, he already had enough personal problems that needed to be fixed. Vanyael seemed to have had a similar realization as she got ready to leave, too.

“Wait just a second!”, Jauffre exclaimed sternly, “If I remember correctly, you escaped from the prison, which is a criminal offense in itself. I could talk to the Imperial guards in my function as captain of the Blades to officially pardon you. But you would have to do me a favor in return.”.

Cyrus couldn’t tell if it was a well-meant offer or blackmail, but Jauffre had a point. He technically fled from prison and he had no idea what the guards would say if they saw him running around freely. It wasn’t possible to avoid them forever. He grabbed Vanyael by her ponytail, who had already begun descending the stairs, stopping her dead in her tracks.

With a sigh, he asked: “Alright. Where can I find Uriel’s son? That’s what you were going to ask, right?”. Stupid monk.

“I’m glad to hear that you changed your mind, you will not regret it; I will send a messenger to the Imperial City as soon as possible. As for Uriel’s son… His name is Martin. He serves Akatosh in the chapel in Kvatch, south of here.”.

Another priest of Akatosh, just like him? What a coincidence. At least they would have something to talk about once he met him.

“You have to go to Kvatch immediately to find him. If the enemy knows of his existence, which seems exceedingly likely, he is in grave danger. And please, let me know if you need anything. I don’t have much, but I will help you as much as I can.”.

Cyrus suddenly felt bad for lashing out at him before, he seemed to be nice if you looked past his though behavior. Jauffre pointed him to a small chest in the corner, apparently used to restock the supplies of travelling Blades. Inside, Cyrus could find a map and assorted weapons, potions and armor. The map would definitely come in handy since he didn’t know his way around Cyrodiil yet. Other than that and the few healing potions, he passed. He was not proficient enough for the weapons and armor and Vanyael stated that she had already better equipment.

With that, they made their goodbyes and left the priory with a new goal: Kvatch. But since it was night already, Cyrus decided it would be best to spend the night nearby at Chorrol before travelling back to the Imperial City on the next day.

On the short walk to Chorrol, neither Cyrus nor Vanyael said a word. He could sense that the Elf was not happy with his (or was it Jauffre’s?) decision to stay entangled in this emperor business, but what was he supposed to do? It’s not like he was overjoyed over the idea to babysit a stuck-up nobles’ son and escorting him through half of Cyrodiil.

When they finally arrived at Chorrol, they decided to visit the local inn, the “ _Oak and Crosier_ ”, to get rooms for the night. Immediately rejected because neither of them had enough money anymore, they instead went to a rundown looking tavern called “ _The Grey Mare_ ” which provided affordable (and very dirty) beds for the night. The beer was alright, though.

Even long after he could hear faint snoring from Vanyael’s room, Cyrus lay wide awake. Partially, because of some really persistent bedbugs that were apparently bent on devouring the entirety of his left little toe. The other reason was that he really had no idea how they would go on after the thing with Martin was over, and he kept pondering over it. Earlier he thought of keeping on going on adventures, but now that he had the time to think about it, he wasn’t so confident about that anymore. It was dangerous, and who knew if they would find enough treasures to survive on? He didn’t plan ahead at all when he left Inh-Xal, and Vanyael seemed to expect him to know what to do. Cyrus never felt too confident in leading roles, and he feared that his lack of courage would hinder them as much as Vanyael’s surplus of it. His thoughts circled and circled until he eventually drifted into a restless sleep.


	5. Field Day

“What on Nirn are you doing down there?”.

Cyrus was awakened by an inquisitive Vanyael, and as soon as he opened his eyes a splitting headache forced him to close them immediately again. Judging from this and other hangover symptoms he experienced, the beer apparently wasn’t as alright as he thought the evening before.

“You look even worse than yesterday morning, what did you do last night?”, Vanyael asked, despite him not giving an answer to her first question.

“Oooww, I don’t know, I went to bed early and couldn’t sleep, but eventually…”, Cyrus managed to answer.

As he tried to open his eyes again, he realized he was lying on the floor, looking up at a grinning Vanyael. She was already in full armor; if he didn’t know better, he would have suspected that she never took it off. After slowly getting up, he had to wait for everything to stop spinning. He didn’t drink that much, how could he feel that way? What were they cutting their drinks with?

“How did you get in here, anyways? I think I locked the door?”, Cyrus inquired while he (slowly) packed up his things and got ready to leave.

“I knocked and called out a few times, but you didn’t react, so I figured I’d just pick the lock and let myself in.”, Vanyael answered casually.

Why was he even surprised; she _was_ a thief, after all. He made a mental note about propping up a chair at the door the next time he wanted to keep her out. Eventually, they decided to get a (very) light breakfast down at the tavern before they would leave.

“Finally, there you are!”. Cyrus didn’t even make it to the bottom of the stairs, as an old man with long gray hair came running up to him.

“My sons are already down at the farm, so if you are ready now, would you please come with me?”, the old Imperial asked.

“Cyrus, what is he talking about?”, Vanyael chimed in, obviously confused, but Cyrus didn’t know either. He didn’t remember ever meeting this person, what _was_ he talking about?

“Uuuhhm, excuse me, who are you again?”, Cyrus asked politely, despite him not being in the mood or physical condition to deal with this right now.

“Valus Odiil, we met yesterday evening, don’t you remember? You agreed to help me and my sons defending my farm!”, the old guy answered and Vanyael immediately added: “Oohh, you did?”.

“I… I did?”, Cyrus concluded lamely.

“Yes, we were drinking late at night and you told me you were a seasoned adventurer who bested countless foes, and that you came here after defeating all the bandits at Fort Ash yourself!”, Valus exclaimed, full of excitement.

“All by yourself, huh?”, Vanyael said, so quietly that only he could hear it. _Yep, She was definitely a demon from Oblivion._

What was going on? Was it possible that he got up again the night before and went back down for a few more drinks? He had no recollection of any of this happening. Vanyael just glared at him with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement, which made the situation even more uncomfortable.

“Anyways, you promised me to help my sons, so I ask you again: will you come with me? My sons are already there, I can show you the way.”, Valus asked once more. Cyrus didn’t remember any of this, but he couldn’t turn him down now. Not after apparently boasting that much the other night.

“Sure, just… lead the way, then.”, Cyrus answered and tried to sound as confident and heroic as possible.

Vanyael kept quiet but he could tell that she enjoyed this situation _immensely_. Damn her and damn his big mouth. Talking big while being drunk is exactly how he ended up in Cyrodiil in the first place, didn’t he ever learn? Accompanied by his pulsating headache and Vanyael’s snickering, they left the tavern. The early sunlight hurt in his eyes. What a great start to what should have been a nice day.

Valus lead them out of the city gates and back towards Weynon Priory. The weather was nice, birds were chirping and on any other day this would have counted as an invigorating experience, but for Cyrus it felt like walking straight through Oblivion. They passed the priory and made their way towards Fort Ash, but maybe half the way there Valus turned left towards the seemingly abandoned farm they had passed on their way to Chorrol the day before. Behind the small cottage, in a small vegetable patch, they finally met up with Valus sons, Rallus and Antus. The latter one, the younger son, was significantly more chipper and talkative than his brother, and briefly told them what the problem was. Apparently, the farm was frequently under attack from “creatures” that lived in the woods, and they needed someone to help them take care of them.

“I don’t think we have much time before their next attack, so, what is your plan?”, Antus asked, beaming.

He seemed very eager and happy to be able to show his worth. Not that any of them looked like they could do much in battle, even Cyrus could tell. Between their shabby clothing and iron weapons, they probably weren’t much more capable of physical combat than Cyrus was. And now he was kind of responsible for their success, just what he always wanted.

“Yeah, go on, what is your plan, _oh experienced and powerful adventurer?_ ”, Vanyael acceded. This was probably how the emperor felt when he got stabbed in the back.

“Well, uhhh… give me a moment to analyze the situation.”, Cyrus answered.

All he could do was stall; he needed more time to come up with a way to deal with this. He was thrown into this mess out of the blue and it didn’t help that he felt like dying already. As far as he could see, there was not much to analyze: the field was not very large and located on a small clearing in the dense forest. There was no way to predict where the creatures would be coming from, he didn’t even know what they were. Back in Inh-Xal, he read a lot of books, including some about military strategies, he just needed to remember the basics. In a way, this was actually more what he had in mind when he dreamt of being an adventurer, so maybe he could use this to show everyone what he was capable of?

“Alright. At first, I think… Vanyael, get up on the roof of the farmhouse. Archers usually tend to be at the back and on elevated positions, right?”, he started.

To his surprise, Vanyael just nodded and made her way back towards the shack, where she promptly began climbing some crates. Cyrus was relieved; even if she just played along to mock him, to the others it seemed as he was a capable adventurer.

“Good, next… Rallus and Antus, position yourself at the far away corners of the field, facing the forest. Valus, take cover in the house. If things go bad, we will barricade ourselves in there and… take them out from the windows… or something.”, Cyrus continued.

Admittedly, his statement ended rather anticlimactically, but all in all he was proud of himself for devising something like that on a whim. Everyone nodded and took their positions. Cyrus decided to stay in the center, ready to heal and support everyone in reach, while also hopefully avoiding the brunt of the battle.

For a while, they just stood around on the field, staring at nothing, but after a while, they arrived: goblins, at least a dozen of them. Again, Cyrus was relieved. Of all the things the forest could have spewed out, he was happy that it wasn’t something worse. After all, he already fought those beasts back while he escaped from the prison.

As the battle unfolded, he realized that his original impression of the Odiil brothers was spot on; neither of them was particularly great at sword fighting and he had his hands full with healing and helping them. Vanyael, on the other hand, didn’t need much support and effortlessly took out a lot of them with her bow. Despite her infuriating behavior, she once again showed that she was capable at what she was doing, and Cyrus was secretly grateful for that.

Soon, the battle was over. Everyone was out of breath, Cyrus had to run around more than he expected, keeping an eye on everything. Vanyael hopped down from the roof and gazed over the field, now littered with goblin corpses.

"Ha ha! We beat them! We slaughtered them all! Did you see? Did you see how well I fought?", Antus exclaimed happily, addressing Cyrus directly.

Cyrus didn’t have the heart to tell him how terrible he actually was, so he just kept quiet. Valus exited the cottage and joined them, seemingly overjoyed that everyone was alive and well. Cyrus took a seat next to Vanyael on some of the crates and watched the family reunite. If it hadn’t been for the hangover symptoms still ravaging his body, he would have jumped from happiness. He was able to lead a group into battle and emerged victorious. _Take that Scar-Tail and everyone who ever looked down on me before!_ Even Vanyael seemed to be impressed.

"My boys are safe! Oh, thank you! Thanks so much for sticking with them and helping a foolish old man.”, Valus proclaimed, now talking to Cyrus, “Please, take this... I won't be needing it any longer. My battles are over. I plan to live out my days on the farm in peace and quiet.".

With this, he took the sword he was carrying and ceremonially handed it to him. A part of him didn’t want to accept any sort of reward, since it was his shameful drunk boasting that got him into this, but on the other hand, he felt like he really earned this. Besides, Vanyael would probably chew him out later if he declined, so he decided to take the sword out of Valus’ hands. It was a shortsword similar to his own, but as he took it out of its sheath, he was surprised to see that it emanated a light blue glow. Neither was it made of steel, but rather from something that resembled slightly translucent ice, an impression only reinforced by a light mist that seemed to be coming from the blade. It almost felt more like a legendary treasure than a regular weapon.

“Are... are you sure? This seems to be very valuable. What’s the story behind that sword?”, Cyrus inquired. At the word “valuable”, Vanyael visually perked up.

“Yes, it’s a treasure and family heirloom for generations, the unique sword _Chillrend_. It inflicts frost damage on its foes! But it’s okay, I made up my mind, I want you to have it for saving my family.”, Valus explained.

 _Chillrend_. What a powerful name for his new weapon! Not only did they win thanks to his amazing leadership skills, but now he owned his own legendary weapon, like a true hero! Cyrus was already enamored. Finally, something went right in his life!

“Are you crying?”, Valus and Vanyael asked almost at the same time.

“No, just… sweat in my eye, yeah. Still exhausted from the battle, haha…”, Cyrus retorted sheepishly. He needed to keep his emotions in check.

After everything was cleaned up, the Odiil family invited them for a meal at their cottage, but Cyrus declined (much to Vanyael’s chagrin). Now that everything was over, they had to get back on track with their actual task. They bid their farewell and left the Odiil farm and continued on their way to the Imperial City. Cyrus was surprised that Vanyael kept quiet for so long, but he didn’t complain. He wanted to bask in this feeling of success for a little longer. Additionally, his headache was still killing him, so he was happy for a bit of peace and quiet. But when they passed Fort Ash again, Vanyael eventually broke the silence.

“I have to say, I’m impressed. You weren’t half bad back there. I could almost believe that you actually are a _seasoned adventurer._ ”. She couldn’t even compliment him without mocking him at the same time.

“Thanks, coming from you, that means a lot.”, Cyrus replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”. Vanyael raised an eyebrow.

“Usually, you are more of an insolent brute, so hearing a genuine compliment is somewhat refreshing, that’s all.”. The words came out of Cyrus’ mouth before he could process it. _Oh no._

“Did you know you can strangle someone with the bowstring while they are asleep? Don’t get cocky because you have a shiny new sword now!”, Vanyael fired back immediately.

“Yeah, because trying to surprise me in my sleep turned out pretty well for you the last time you tried it.”. For some reason, he kept digging his own grave. Together with Chillrend, he must have gained a lot of confidence this morning.

“Says the person cutting his own hand trying to look daring in front of a girl.”. She had a point there.

“Well, it did work, didn’t it? You’re here now, so what does that say about your standards?”, Cyrus retorted.

“Pfff, whatever. Just remind me not to be nice to you ever again.”. Vanyael crossed her arms in front of her chest and dramatically turned her head away from him.

Surprisingly, she did nothing to counter him, something he didn’t expect but welcomed. They kept walking in silence again for a while, before Vanyael started talking once more.

“Say… That Argonian guy we ran into yesterday… Scar-Tail? You mentioned he is an _official_ assassin, and that made me think… He’s not with the Dark Brotherhood, isn’t he?”. Why did she have to start with this again?

“No… He’s a Shadowscale, some kind of cultural thing in Black Marsh. If I remember correctly, Argonians that hatch under the sign of _The Shadow_ get trained to become an assassin or something, and some of them make it big and get hired by the king in an official position. Huge privilege. Sadly, the only one I got to know always was a big jerk about it. But why do you ask? I didn’t even know the Dark Brotherhood existed until you told me, so…”, Cyrus replied. His head still hurt, talking about Scar-Tail was the last thing he wanted to do right now. Merely mentioning his name already dampened his mood.

“Oooh… no special reason. He just seemed… dangerous. What do you think will he do now?”, Vanyael said, her voice being suspiciously nonchalant. Why was she so nervous about it? Between this and her behavior the other when she talked about the same topic, there was definitely more to the story. Someday, he had to ask her about it, but he decided to postpone it since there was so much going on today already.

“Yeah, he probably already gave up and is on his way back to Black Marsh. Battling with that many Blades must have severely diminished his morale.”, Cyrus answered, giving her a confident smile, just like the day before.

He was lying. Inside, he already started freaking out just thinking of the day Scar-Tail would eventually return to get his petty revenge. If he had found him once, he would find him again, that he was sure of. But with all his other worries, it was hard to focus on that, so he could at least act calm. Vanyael seemed to be slightly reassured, so he didn’t fail completely on that regard which made him feel a bit better.

“Alright. So… we go to the Imperial City, and then? What’s the plan?”. Vanyael sure liked to bombard him with questions when he was not in the mood to answer them.

“Well… making a brief stop at home, stocking up on provisions, and then… travelling to this city here, Skingrad, I guess.”, Cyrus explained.

He had unfolded the map he got from Jauffre, Skingrad was shown on the way from the Imperial City towards Kvatch in the southwest. They would rest there for the night and then move on the next day. He came up with that plan on the fly, but it seemed to be enough to meet Vanyael’s demands and she did not bother him with more questions. _Thank Akatosh._

It was already noon when they arrived at Weye again. After crossing the Talos Bridge and entering the Imperial City, they agreed to split up to get the necessary goods and repairs for their gear in the market district, planning to regroup at Cyrus’ shack an hour later.

Cyrus hurried to get everything done even earlier than that, just so he could lay down for a while in his bed. After everything that happened today already, he definitely deserved it. Everywhere in the city he could overhear people talking about the assassination of the emperor; Jauffre was right about the news spreading. It only made him want to take a nap even more. But as he arrived in the waterfront district half an hour later, he saw something that, once again, made his heart sink.

In front of his house, there was a group of guards, one of them in a shiny white armor adorned with jewels. Holding a piece of paper, he was looking ominously at the shack.

 _Great. What now?_ Did they come to arrest him? Cyrus was not keen on dealing with them right now, so he spun on his heel to run away, only to collide with a burly looking sailor that just happened to walk behind him.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, pal!”. The rough looking guy immediately shoved Cyrus back before he could even apologize.

He tripped and fell backwards into a broken crate next to one of the rundown huts that littered the back of the waterfront district. Naturally, the noise of cracking wood and Cyrus’ screams and curses were enough to attract the attention of the guards, who quickly came over to investigate.

“It’s him! That’s the guy!”, one of them exclaimed.

Cyrus had no time to get up and flee, as two of the guards roughly yanked him out of the debris onto his feet. The one with the fancy white armor walked up to him as he was restrained by the other two.

“Cyrus Amentius, I assume? Seems like you are as stupid as you look, when you come back here after escaping the prison. I wouldn’t have done that if I were you.”, he sneered.

Just like with the Dunmer guy in the prison, Cyrus inevitably had the mental image of Scar-Tail talking to him. Apparently, Cyrodiil was full of jerks like him, how wonderful.

“So, if you wouldn’t mind… Would you come with us to have a talk?”, the fancy guard continued, not even hiding the malicious intent in his voice. Cyrus felt terribly exhausted again. Could he never catch a break? It seemed as if whole Nirn was out to get him.

“Actually… no. I’m kind of busy right now and I kind of don’t feel like it, so…”, Cyrus answered. Of course he was aware that the question was more on the rhetoric side, but it was worth a try.

“Oohh, I see, we have a smartass over here. Don’t start with this, boy, you’re only going to lose.”, the unfriendly guard with the expensive armor answered. He was unfazed, so much for giving it a try.

To his surprise, when they started walking the guards jostled him towards his shack and not the prison district on the other side of the city, which he was lowkey grateful for, but also confused about.

After shoving him inside, they took post outside while the fancy guard walked in behind him and closed the door. Where was this going? For a few seconds, they both just stood there in the dimly lit hut, glaring at each other, before the guard started talking.

“Okay, since you’re apparently an imbecile and I am way too busy to stay here all day, I’m going to briefly explain to you what we’re going to do now. You escaped from the Imperial prison, which usually is a crime punished by death. Luckily for you, a messenger arrived just this morning, delivering a pardon on behalf of the Blades, so you’re free to go.”.

The guard was obviously very angry over the fact that he could not put Cyrus back into a cell or worse, Cyrus could already tell.

“While I’m disappointed about that, it may be even better for us in the long run though.”, the guard continued. Cyrus didn’t like the tone in his voice when he said that.

“It seems you are in debt to the Office of Imperial Commerce, and being the friendly and helpful person that I am, I volunteered to take care of that. Of course, it is subject to my own judgement how often and how much you have to pay back. So, I’m going to take the first payment right now, and you better be around here the next time I visit, you understood?”, the guard concluded. Cyrus understood.

“I see. Embezzlement and misuse of authority, right?”.

 _Whack._ The sound of metal clanging followed by a crunchy noise that had to be from one of his upper right molars echoed through the shed. Cyrus never experienced a backhanded stroke with an armored glove before. It suddenly crossed his mind that he probably shouldn’t say what was on his mind in situations like this.

Still completely unfazed, the guard proceeded: “What did I tell you before? You don’t want to get on my bad side! Anyways, if you understood, then I’m going to demand the first payment. _Now_. Go on, show me your coin pouch.”.

Cyrus would have loved to simply dump his gold on the dusty shack floor, but he learned from previous experiences, so he handed over the whole pouch neatly.

“That’s it? Alright. I will take all of this for now. A pleasure doing business with you.”, the crooked guard said with a sickening smirk on his face.

“Do I at least get to know your name? I like to know who I’m indebted to.”, Cyrus asked as politely as possible with a mouth half full of blood.

“Audens Avidius. Don’t try and badmouth me to the higher-ups though, I guarantee you it’s a waste of time.”, the guard answered and tossed Cyrus’ empty coin pouch in the corner. He seemed to be pleased.

“If there is nothing more you feel the need to annoy me with, I will now bid you farewell. Until next time, that is.”, Avidius concluded before exiting the shack.

Utterly defeated, Cyrus threw himself onto his bed. He was seething with rage at all the injustice that has befallen him, something that made him feel like his head was going to split. Soon after healing his cheek and broken teeth, the headache seemed to subside, as rage was replaced with exhaustion and finally a deep sleep. In his dreams, he wandered through surreal looking worlds of fire and dark stone again, just like the night he spent in prison.

After what seemed to be only minutes, he was awakened again by Vanyael’s voice.

“Hey, wake up sleepyhead. What was going on here?”.

Cyrus needed to blink a few times. He almost thought Avidius’ visit was just a dream, but the few blood drips on the floor Vanyael pointed at reminded him that it was reality.

“Oh, that… My face had an encounter with a fist. Nothing serious really.”, he answered. At least his headache was gone by now. Vanyael was slightly shocked and wanted to know all the details, but Cyrus decided that he didn’t want to burden her with more of his problems.

“Listen, it’s nothing. Let’s get going. It’s still a long way to Skingrad.”, he answered briefly and left the shack, Vanyael following him shortly after. It was already the early afternoon, so it must have taken Vanyael quite some time to get here as it seemed, but they still could make it to Skingrad before nightfall if they left immediately.

As they made their way towards Skingrad, they encircled the Imperial City again on the southwest, before venturing into a dense redwood forest. The trees here were taller than anything Cyrus had seen in Black Marsh, as the road went steeply uphill. Vanyael seemed to be unusually reserved since they left the Imperial City, so Cyrus tried to lighten up the mood a little.

“It really doesn’t feel like a forest at all when the trees are so tall, isn’t it? I’m actually amazed at how…”.

Cyrus didn’t get any further than that as a deer jumped out from the thick undergrowth to his right, just inches in front of his face. He jumped back while screaming, instinctively turning around to see if Vanyael vanished again, but she just impassively stared at him. Something definitely was wrong with her; this would be exactly the situation she would normally laugh at.

“Hey, I’m not dumb you know. I can tell something’s up, so if you would…”, Cyrus started with a sigh, but was interrupted once again by something jumping out of the thicket next to the road, only that it wasn’t a deer this time.

A brown bear, easily as tall as Cyrus and much more massive, stood in front of him. Slowly it began to shift its gaze from the fleeing deer towards him, something that made Cyrus experience terror and dread in the matter of seconds. But he had fought through countless of bandits, so a simple bear would be no match for them, right? His legs were shaking as he grabbed Chillrend… only to find that it wasn’t in the sheath attached to his belt.

 _What in the name of the Gods…?_ He double checked with his hand, fumbling around the sheath, before averting his eyes from the bear’s face to verify his swift realization: his sword was gone. _Aaaahhhh, why, how?_ Cyrus was screaming internally, how could this happen?

“Vanyael, we need to…”, he began but as he turned around, he could only catch one last glimpse of the Elf before she became invisible again. In her right hand, she playfully Chillrend. What was going on?

“What are you doing? Give me back my sword, it’s my only weapon! Or at least do something about the…”, he yelled, before getting interrupted for the third time.

This time, a huge clawed paw, larger than Cyrus’ head, swung down next to his shoulder, ripping the cloth of his robe. He recoiled with a loud shriek; how could Vanyael betray him like that? Why now? She had multiple opportunities where she could have left him to die. He knew there was something up with her, but he didn’t expect this.

Left without a weapon, the only option he had was to flee, but that was easier said than done because despite its chubby look, the bear was exceptionally fast. Cyrus ran for his life, off the road into the bushes in the hope to slow the animal down, but it only served the purpose of ripping and tearing his clothes and legs. Some hero he was, running from a single bear. In front of him he could make out a somewhat smaller tree with low hanging branches, just what he needed. He tossed his backpack at the bear to win some time and then, with a daring jump, he grabbed one of the sturdier looking branches and proceeded to climb up the tree as fast as he could. This was not something he had done before, but in his mind, it seemed to be the only viable choice in this situation.

It worked out surprisingly well, and in a few seconds, he reached one of the uppermost branches in the tree’s crown. The bear caught up to him briefly after though and was now circling the tree below him. What was he supposed to do now? He could just wait here, the bear had to leave eventually, right? As if it heard Cyrus’ thoughts, it stopped walking around the trunk and was clawing at it now with both its front paws. Right, almost nothing has ever worked out for him so far on this stupid adventure, he remembered.

It would only be a matter of time until the bear either chopped down the tree or made its way up to where Cyrus was hiding, so he had to come up with something fast. He still didn’t know any attack spells and Vanyael stole his sword, so there was not much he could do to drive the bear away, but simply outrunning it was impossible too.

“Hey, Vanyael, if you’re still out there somewhere… If this was all a prank, you can come help me anytime now, it was all really funny!”, Cyrus desperately cried out into the forest around him, followed by an obvious fake laugh. She was his only hope, if she didn’t cross him completely.

To his surprise, Vanyael’s voice answered after a few seconds, barely audible over the bears clawing noises below him: “It wasn’t a prank, more like… a lesson.”. If she was still talking to him, that meant that maybe she would actually help him. _Please let her help me!_

“What is going on? Please, help me now, the bear, it’s…”, Cyrus started, but a loud cracking sound made him scream instead, as one of the lower branches got ripped out.

“Only if you promise to tell me what’s going on from now on! All this time you barely gave me any information what you are planning to do and what problems you face! We are allies for Akatosh’s sake, so stop that stoic idiocy and actually talk to me! I figured this was an easy way to talk to you since you can’t evade me this way.”, Vanyael’s voice yelled.

That’s what she was after? Why would she care? Cyrus was so used to everyone ignoring him, that someone actually wanting to listen to him came as a shock. Even more so that it was her of all people. But going so far as to leave him to get attacked by a bear, what was wrong with that woman! Was _he_ the one who acted socially inept here? No, she kept secrets from him, too! Damn hypocrite!

“Look who’s talking! If I recall, you were not completely honest with me yourself, what about that, huh?”. If he hadn’t been so scared, he would have been yelling now.

From somewhere below he could hear a loud gasp. Did she only realize her behavior now?

“You’re right! Maybe we both had the wrong expectations about traveling with each other?”, Vanyael’s voice exclaimed. There was no time for such nonsense, he could feel the tree tilt!

“I commend you for your sudden self-awareness, but please, for the love of the Nine, do something!”, Cyrus replied, and just as he said that, Vanyael appeared below the tree, right next to the bear.

He thought she would get mauled by it the moment it sees her, but instead a white light illuminated the area for a fraction of a second and the bear seemed to… calm down? It stopped tearing at the tree and lazily gazed over to Vanyael instead, who _actually petted it on the head_. And just after that, the bear turned around and slowly trotted away into the shrubs and bushes until it was nowhere to be seen. Cyrus jaw dropped. What had just happened? Was he just imagining things because he was already dead or something?

“You can climb down now, it won’t come back for a while, so if we continue walking down the road, we will be safe.”, Vanyael explained calmly.

Cyrus did as he was told, missing the last few branches and falling face first onto the ground, right in front of Vanyael’s feet. As he looked up into her stern expression, he couldn’t help feeling thankful to her for saving him, even if it was kind of her fault to begin with.

“What… How did you do that?”, he asked while getting up and cleaning all the leaves and dirt from his clothes.

“If you didn’t realize yet, I’m a Bosmer. We can kind of command animals, you know? The beast tongue?”, Vanyael explained calmly.

Why was he only hearing of this now? She could talk to animals? Amazing! But he quickly came back to his senses.

“Alright… what do you want to know of me, exactly? Also, may I have my sword back, please?”, he exclaimed after his bewilderment had died down.

“Let’s talk along the way.”, she responded and tossed Chillrend over to him.

“So, let’s start with what happened in the shack while I was away. There was blood on the floor, who was that?”, Vanyael inquired once they were back on the road towards Skingrad.

“You know already that I’m in debt, right? A couple of guards led by someone called Audens Avidius visited me and collected a part of that. Not that it did much to lower the debt, I’m sure that scumbag is keeping the gold for himself, he made that very clear. Apparently, he was not very happy with me talking back to him because he hit me in the face, so that’s where the blood comes from. See, it’s nothing important, so that’s why…”, Cyrus answered, but Vanyael signed him to stop.

“Audens Avidius you say? Interesting… I heard of him before, he is known for being… like that, actually. The Thieves Guild had a few run-ins with him, too, but we were able to come to an agreement, if you know what I mean.”.

She seemed to be pleased with that answer, but continued: “Ok, the next thing you were awfully evasive with is Scar-Tail. He will come back, right?”, Vanyael said. That again.

“Look, I still don’t really get why you want to get involved in my problems so much, wouldn’t it be easier to…”, Cyrus started but was interrupted by Vanyael again.

“Shut up. I told you, stop with that stoic attitude, it will get us nowhere. We are allies, as I said before, and as that, we share problems and stuff, right? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? Are you that unfamiliar with basic human interactions?”.

The honest answer would have been _yes_ , but there was no way he could tell her that. Why was he even getting so flustered right now?

“I… Thank you, it… means a lot… I guess.”, Cyrus stammered, trying to hide his bashful expression.

“Still, that doesn’t justify siccing that bear on me and stealing my weapon, I could have died!”, he continued, slowly winning his usual demeanor back. To his surprise, Vanyael just cracked a big smile.

“Ooohh, that… there was no way you were really scared, were you? It was just a bear! Totally easy to get rid of, even you could have. I thought you only acted scared to force me to come to your help, right? It was kind of cute, really.”, she replied.

Cyrus had conflicting emotions right now, he somehow wanted to hug her and thank her for being the first person in his life to call a friend, but equally he really wanted to ditch her in the forest.

Ultimately, his pride got the better of him and he decided to answer nonchalantly: “Ah… yes… an act, sure. You’re right of course. Seems like it worked, though.”.

Another fake laugh. Vanyael’s smirk told him that she probably saw through his lie, so he quickly got back on track with the conversation.

“About Scar-Tail… Yes, he probably will come back at some point. The guy is seriously mad at me, and being a professional assassin, I doubt that he would give up so easily. We should better be on guard.”. Vanyael nodded, a serious expression on her face.

“From now on, let’s talk about things, right?”, she answered and showed him a big smile, but unlike all the other times this one seemed to be genuine and not condescending. Maybe she was not as questionable and silly as he first thought, but instead a good person to have as an ally on his journey.

“Well now you know. But I have a question myself: Why do you always seem so pensive when the topic of Scar-Tail or assassins comes up?”, Cyrus finally asked. As he expected, Vanyael’s face contorted in ways he had not seen before; she was obviously fighting with herself. After a few seconds, she came to a conclusion.

“Uggh, fine. You’re the only one I ever told, so don’t make a big deal about it, but… I recently had a run-in with the Dark Brotherhood. And not in the good way.”. Vanyael was decidedly looking away from him.

“What does that mean?”, Cyrus kept asking. It seemed like he was right with his expectations.

“Well I kind of… may have killed their leader.”.

“You did WHAT?”. This was definitely NOT what he expected, how did that come to pass?

“It wasn’t my fault, I was awoken in the middle of the night and suddenly, there’s this guy in black robes next to me, Lucien Lagrange or something, talking about me being a murderer and whatnot. I freaked out, grabbed the dagger under my pillow and just… well, you know.”. It was easy to tell that she seemed to be extremely embarrassed about this, her face was now almost as red as the sunset around them.

“Anyways, I have the feeling like his people are after me since then, that’s part of the reason I chose to travel with you. Staying on the move is probably the best thing for me right now.”, Vanyael concluded.

Cyrus didn’t know how to react. There was a whole group of professionally trained assassins after her? For a moment, he felt relieved since his problems got nothing on hers, but then he realized that by keeping her around he was part of them now, too. Also, what sane person sleeps with a dagger under their pillow? It would have been the best decision to simply ditch her at the next opportunity, but for some reason, he felt something like sympathy for her.

“Well, that means we have to stay extra careful from now on!”, he finally answered, mirroring her words from the day before.

Once again, he tried to give her a confident smile and he was surprised that she returned it. In only a few days, they have been through so much already, so he wouldn’t just leave her behind. Despite her snappiness. And her nagging. And her causing trouble by being too foolhardy. He only hoped that it wouldn’t turn out to be a mistake.


	6. Troubled Mages

When they finally arrived at the eastern gate of Skingrad, it was already in the middle of the night. From what he could make out, the buildings seemed to be much more imposing and intricately decorated than the ones in Chorrol or the monolithic elven buildings in the Imperial City. They rented a room in a cheap inn called _“Two Sisters Lodge”_ , which was, surprisingly, run by two Orc sisters, even though only one of them was there at the time. Compared to the inn Cyrus spent the last night, it was like a palace. After taking a relaxing bath he was happy to finally get a good night’s sleep after another more than exhausting day. Preferably one without unpleasant surprises for once.

As Cyrus woke up the next day, he half expected Vanyael or someone else to be in his room already and causing him more problems, but thankfully, he was granted at least one peaceful morning. After spending a while just staring at the ceiling, he felt well rested enough to get up and get back to the task at hand. Traveling to Kvatch, finding Martin and getting him back to Jauffre, that was it. After that, he would not take any more stupid requests and instead focus on his own problems. Looking out the window, he clenched a fist in determination.

“Aww, man, would you please put some clothes on!”. Vanyael’s sudden scolding pulled him out of his thoughts immediately.

Cyrus spun around in shock. Once again, he was reminded that Vanyael was, in fact, a thief and could enter locked rooms without anyone (including him) noticing.

“Would it kill you to knock for once!”, Cyrus yelled back at her, haphazardly throwing on his robes. Vanyael was, of course, already fully dressed in armor.

“Would it kill _you_ to wear proper clothing before presenting yourself in front of the window?”, Vanyael answered, “Oh, wait, I remember, you already were arrested once for indecent exposure, must be a pastime for you! But let me tell you, nobody wants to see a washed-up scrawny Imperial first thing in the morning.”. So much for his peaceful morning.

“Just shut up. We have a lot to do today.”, Cyrus remarked briefly, packing up the rest of his things.

“Yeah, I know, the whole emperor story, right? I have to say, escorting nobles is not what I had in mind when I started traveling with you, but it’ll do, I guess. By the way, I have been thinking, maybe you’d want to visit the local Mages Guild. I heard they specialize in destruction magic. It might be helpful.”, Vanyael suggested on their way down to the taproom.

He didn’t want to admit it, but she had a point. Eventually, they had to get better at dealing with hostiles, and he figured he would have to take up something that was not that different from the restoration magic he already was skilled at. And since they were in Skingrad already, he might as well check it out.

After the breakfast, he told Vanyael to restock their provisions while he would visit the local Mages Guild. As he walked through the narrow streets of Skingrad, he was once again amazed at how different the architectural styles in Cyrodiil were from the ones he was used to in Black Marsh. Skingrad particularly was as beautiful as he thought the night before. Maybe in another life, he could have been an architect. Sadly, in this one, he had to be… whatever he was at this moment.

Standing in front of the large oak doors of the Mages Guild hall, he checked his attire once more, he wanted to make a good first impression, after all, he wanted them to help him. He even changed from the tattered robes he wore the day before to a new one he deliberately packed when he left the Imperial City; he was already getting better at planning ahead and everything! After being sure that everything looked immaculate and his new sword was sitting in a presentable spot on his belt, he took a deep breath and entered the guild hall.

Just when he thought his welcome at Weynon Priory was the strangest he would ever witness, he was proven wrong. As soon as the door closed behind him, he suddenly lost balance and fell over, or at least he thought he did. In reality, he was more floating forward while spinning slowly on his own axis. What on Nirn was going on here? He instinctively flailed about while he was slowly floating into the large room, where all furniture and books seemed to follow his example.

“Oh, please, not again, for Galerion’s sake! What is she doing now!”, an annoyed voice was yelling from the room next to the entrance.

Cyrus tried to turn his body to look into the doorway the voice was coming from, as an angry-looking Breton woman in an elaborate blue dress was floating into view. Somehow, she looked way more graceful while hovering around than him, almost as if she was used to it. As soon as she spotted Cyrus, her face lit up.

“Finally, the Arcane University sent someone to deal with this! I’m Adrienne Berene, leader of the local guild. I assume you got my letter?”.

“Uuhm… I-I-I don’t know, I’m just here too…”, Cyrus stammered, he had trouble to fully understand the situation.

Adrienne was not happy with his answer, she apparently was waiting for someone else. From the other room, he could hear the sound of breaking glass, followed by someone cursing. Maybe he should leave and come back later, they seemed to be in the middle of something.

“You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m seriously at my limit here, I’ll take any help that I can get. What’s your name? Could you please do something about that… that _brat_ upstairs?”, Adrienne asked, no, almost begged.

“I’m Cyrus, Cyrus Amentius, but what are you talking about? What’s going on here?”. Just as he thought about leaving, he got dragged into something weird again.

“Cyrus, great. Listen, it’s that damned new student we got, she came here and wanted to study destruction magic, but all she does is causing chaos and things like… like this.”, Adrienne explained, gesticulating theatrically around. “I asked the Arcane University for someone to pick her up, but no one came. But now you are here, better than nothing. Maybe she will listen to a stranger, would you please go upstairs and do something? She’s driving me insane!”. Without waiting for an answer, she continued: “You will immediately notice her when you see her, she looks… peculiar. Now please, go!”.

With that, she gave him a push which sent him floating vaguely in the direction of the staircase on the other side of the room. What has he gotten himself into, now? As he slowly drifted through the room, he used the walls and now empty bookshelves to pull himself into the direction he wanted to go. On the first floor, even more books, chairs and tables were floating about, together with a very tired looking Argonian woman who was trying to read a book while suspended in mid-air upside down. She didn’t seem to be fazed by the whole ordeal, nor was she paying Cyrus any mind. _Cyrodiil was a very strange place._

Cyrus made his way to the other end of the room, where another staircase lead to the second floor. He opened the small door at the top of the stairs that lead to another large room, where he finally saw what was causing the commotion.

In the middle of the room stood a large creature, seemingly consisting out of large floating rocks. Cyrus recognized it as a Storm Atronach, a powerful Daedric creature and one of three elemental beings that roamed the planes of Oblivion. What in Akatosh’s name was it doing in the middle of Skingrad? To his relief, it seemed rather passive and minding his own business, as it inspected a display cabinet that floated past it. It was obvious that the Atronach was responsible for the loss of gravity, but how did it get here? Someone had have summoned it to Mundus, and, remembering Adrienne’s words, he had a good idea who it was.

As he slowly made his way around the corner, hugging the wall as to not get too close to the Daedra, another person entered the room from the other end. Adrienne was right, he immediately knew that it was the girl she told her about. As far as her looks go, _peculiar_ was an understatement. From afar, the thing that stood out the most for Cyrus was her unnaturally scarlet hair, adorned with numerous silly accessories. She was clad in something that, at first glance, looked like a mishmash of random leather and pelt armor parts including some sort of strange skirt and corset that reminded Cyrus of something a barmaid would wear. Together with her dainty appearance, she looked more like a child that played dress-up after it found its mothers wardrobe than a magic scholar. She was hastily flipping through a book, and, after she apparently found what she looked for, she brandished the staff in her left hand and stared intensely at the unsuspecting Atronach.

“Retreat, demon! By the force of my flame, I banish you to Oblivion!”, she loudly proclaimed. Her voice was sounded energetic and almost playful. But why was she announcing that in the first place? A secret magic technique he was unaware of?

In an instant, a beam of magic fire exploded from the tip of a large blue gem on her staff, hitting the Storm Atronach at point-blank range. Cyrus had never seen magic as powerful as that, he couldn’t help but keep on staring at the spectacle in front of his eyes. Slowly, the whole room was engulfed in flame, and when Cyrus looked again after shielding his face… the Atronach was still there.

It was still standing in the middle of the room, completely unfazed and seemingly unaware of what just happened. The only difference was that a lot of the furniture that floated around including parts of the rug on the floor was now on fire. _What was she doing!_ The panicked look on her face told him that she had no idea herself.

“Stop it, you’re only making things worse, let me handle this!”, Cyrus yelled. He spoke without thinking, he shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place.

The strange girl noticed and simply nodded in response. Cyrus made his way over to her, franticly rehearsing the necessary incantations for a powerful banishment spell in his head. As he reached her, he awkwardly positioned himself in front of her as he unleashed the power of the Gods on the Atronach. A wave of white light flooded the room, and as soon as it hit the Daedra, it immediately vanished with a loud scream.

In an instant, gravity returned, and everything came crashing down to the floor. Cyrus landed face first on the hard wood floor, while the culprit who started all of this landed gracefully on her feet next to him. As he looked up, she reached out her hand to help him up.

“Thanks, I appreciate the help! But I’m sure I could have handled the situation myself in given time.”, she said with a big smile on her face. She appeared awfully jubilant for someone who almost leveled a whole building.

“Yeah, sure, burning the whole house down would have solved the problem, too.”, Cyrus mumbled under his breath as he took her hand and got up. “By the way, your hair is still on fire.”, he added, now directly addressing her.

“Aaaahh, oh no!”, she shrieked and immediately cast some sort of frost spell on the tiny flame on her head. The flame went out, followed by her screaming: “Ow ow ow, cold, cold!”, while jumping around, rubbing her head.

As she twirled around, Cyrus could see just _how many_ stupid accessories she was actually wearing. There was a large white bow on the back of her head, two small white flowers near her bangs, something that looked like feathers dangling from both of her ears and multiple green bracelets on her right arm. Even her necklace was something special; a crude woven chain with animal teeth and some sort of charm on it. It reminded Cyrus of something tribal Argonians in Black Marsh would wear. This girl was something else, he could already tell.

“Thank the Gods, it’s finally over!”. The door opened, and Adrienne entered the room. “You. Downstairs. Now.”, she added sternly, pointing towards the red-haired girl.

“Alright, Madam. I’m sorry.”, she answered and, with a dejected look on her face, trudged out of the room.

“Thank you, _thank you!_ How can I ever repay you?”, Adrienne wanted to know. She was clearly overjoyed.

“I… I don’t think you have to; I mean…”, Cyrus started. He was dragged into this without a warning, he didn’t know what to say. “I originally came here just to learn a few destruction spells. You see, I’m an ongoing adventurer and I thought…”.

“Destruction spells you say…”, Adrienne pondered.

What was it with people constantly interrupting him? Adrienne turned around and seemed to be in thoughts for a few seconds, but when she turned towards him again, she was beaming. Something about this expression made him wary, it reminded him of the look on Vanyael’s face whenever she’s smug about something.

“I think I have the perfect solution. Follow me.”, she said and walked through the debris towards the stairs. He did not like where this was going.

As he reached the first floor again, all the members of the guild hall were already busy tidying the place up. The red-haired girl was standing around in the corner, apparently trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. Adrienne clearly didn’t care about that, since she walked through the room directly towards her.

“Lilienne, I have great news for you! You know our problem with Erthor? Congratulations, I’m letting you handle it. And if you bring him or his notes back, there’s even a recommendation in it for you, and you are finally one step closer to the Arcane University!”. Somehow, Adrienne sounded suspiciously happy.

“You’re not going to berate me for messing up my conjuration attempt? And you’re giving me an official assignment from the guild? Woah, thank you so much!”, the strange girl called Lilienne answered.

If Adrienne looked happy, it was nothing in comparison to Lilienne’s sheer overjoyed facial expression and behavior. Cyrus had no idea what they were talking about, nor did he know why he had to be present for that. He just wanted to learn a few spells, why did everything turn out to be so complicated? Lilienne was jumping around in place squealing, happily holding Adrienne’s hands, it really was a big deal for her.

“Additionally, you will be accompanied by this gentleman, Cyrus Amentius. He wants to learn something about destruction magic, and I think you can help him out on that front!”, Adrienne added, pointing to him. _What?_ That damned witch!

“Excuse me, what do you mean?”, Cyrus asked, trying to stay as calm and polite as possible. There was no way in Oblivion he would spend any more time with this red-haired lunatic! He has seen enough of her to know that she was a danger to the community.

“Oooohh, great, I like meeting new people!”. Lilienne exclaimed. Cyrus was surprised at the fact that her face could show even more happiness and excitement as it already did. In a matter of seconds, she crossed the room and formally held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Lilienne, a master of the magic arts! Although, I guess we have met before!”. For some reason, she added a silly giggle to her last line. Reluctantly, Cyrus took her hand and Lilienne shook it vigorously.

“Cyrus, was it? I’m looking forward to work with you! And if you have any questions about magic, just ask me. If it’s about spells, I’m your man! Or rather, I’m your girl!”, she added before finally letting his hand go. She struck a silly pose, her large green eyes looking at him in excitement.

Cyrus was speechless. He glanced over to Adrienne, who had a scheming look on her face. He realized what was going on, she wanted to get rid of Lilienne and forced her unto him. _Damn her!_ Somehow, he needed to get out of this.

“Uuuhh, I’m sorry, I don’t know if I have the time to help you with… whatever it was. Actually, I need to travel to Kvatch as soon as possible, so just forget about the spells and…”, Cyrus started, but a look into Lilienne’s face caused him to trail off.

In contrast to her overly happy demeanor from just seconds ago, she seemed to be absolutely devastated and on the verge of tears.

“You don’t want to help me? You don’t want me around? It’s okay, I’m used to it after all. Everyone always says I annoy them or something.”. Even her voice lost the upbeat tone of before.

What was going on? How could someone switch between extreme emotions that quickly? She was practically guilt-tripping him into agreeing now! He simply didn’t have it in him to reject her if she behaved like that. Something told him that this was all according to Adrienne’s plan.

“No I… It’s Alright. I’ll help you with your task.”, Cyrus answered tonelessly. Maybe one day, he would grow a spine.

“Yaaay! I knew you were a nice person! I’ll just get my stuff; I will meet you downstairs! We better get going as soon as possible!”, Lilienne responded. She immediately changed back to her happy persona and rushed off to the stairs.

Cyrus was left standing in the room, baffled. Now he had _two_ infuriating people around, just great. How did it come to this? He looked around for Adrienne to give her a piece of his mind, but she was already helping the others with cleaning up the mess Lilienne had caused. Or at least she was pretending, Cyrus was sure she just wanted to avoid talking to him. When they were back from Lilienne’s errand, he would have a serious talk with her.

After leaving the Mages Guild, now with Lilienne in tow, Cyrus decided to directly meet up with Vanyael at the inn. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. As he arrived there, Vanyael was sitting on a table in the taproom, a bottle of mead in front of her and idly spinning one of her arrows in her hand.

“Finally, that took far longer than I expected, what were you doing?”, she greeted him, while excessively yawning. “Also, who’s the cute little protégé you got there?”, she added with a smirk after noticing Lilienne.

“Well, I…”, Cyrus started, but he was interrupted by Lilienne who pushed herself in front of him.

“I’m Lilienne, member of the Cyrodiil Mages Guild, nice to meet you! But I’m not little, I’m actually taller than you!”, she happily exclaimed.

 _Woah._ Straight to her face, Cyrus was impressed. Maybe she was not as horrible of a companion as he first thought. Having someone talking back to Vanyael’s stupid comments was something he could get used to.

“Are you Cyrus’ wife?”, Lilienne added.

Vanyael instantly choked on her mead, coughing wildly. Cyrus felt as if all his blood had drained from his face. How did she come to that conclusion?

“Uuuhhh, no, we are just… friends, traveling buddies, whatever. This coughing blonde lady in front of you is Vanyael, a professional marksman!”, Cyrus explained hastily. Not the introduction he wanted to make, but whatever.

“Aaww, but you look so cute together!”, Lilienne stated. Cyrus wished she would stop with these embarrassing claims. Involuntarily, Cyrus had to think back on the first time he met Vanyael and how awkward he behaved back then.

“We don’t.”, Vanyael declared after regaining her composure again, before continuing: “As you heard, I’m Vanyael, nice to meet you, too. How come you are hanging around with such a gloomy guy like Cyrus?”.

 _Because she was dumped by her mentor, that’s why._ But some thoughts better stay unspoken. Instead, he let Lilienne do the talking from that point on. Judging from Vanyael’s expression, she had similar thoughts as himself about Lilienne and her attitude.

“So, what exactly am I supposed to help you with?”, Cyrus wanted to know.

“Not helping, you just need to observe and listen to what I can tell you about magic!”, Lilienne answered with a silly wink. “And we’re going to Erthor, my friend from the Skingrad Mages Guild. He went to the _Bleak Flats Cave_ for his studies, since Adrienne kicked him out of the guild hall. She said he messed up too much and wasn’t careful enough or something, but she forgot about that. Anyways, I was told to get him back since he wasn’t there for his last weekly visit.”.

Erthor was friends with Lilienne? And Adrienne sent him away, too? Was he another lost cause like her? _Oh please no. May the Gods have mercy!_ He didn’t want to become a caretaker for the Mages Guild’s outcasts.

“Why didn’t you go earlier already? Are you not worried about your friend?”, Cyrus inquired.

“What? No, of course not. Erthor is super smart, he wouldn’t get himself in unnecessary trouble! I’m sure he’s just fine, he probably just lost track of time. Additionally, I was just on the verge of a breakthrough with that Storm Atronach.”. Lilienne seemed to be quite optimistic and confident in Erthor’s abilities. But if he was anything like her…

“Well, then let’s go. Bleak Flats Cave it is. Do you know where it is?”, Cyrus announced. If they started out now, they might be back by evening.

After they left the tavern, Lilienne lead the way towards the cave. She told them that another guild member called Druja told her where exactly the cave was located, which Lilienne followed up with a long monologue about how nice this Druja person is. As they left Skingrad through the western gate, Lilienne turned right and they travelled through a lush vineyard. Lilienne was skipping in front of them, humming an upbeat song and from time to time, she stopped to look at butterflies or random flowers. The more Cyrus saw of her, the more he was convinced that she was secretly a 9-year-old in the body of an adult.

After a while, Lilienne started talking again: “You know, I believe you can solve anything with magic, that’s why I work so hard here in Cyrodiil to study it!”.

To prove it, she whirled her hand and from a distance a few red flowers came floating towards her. She briefly sniffed them, before letting them float towards Vanyael.

“Fell free to take one, see it as a welcome gift from me to you!”, Lilienne proposed. Cyrus couldn’t imagine Vanyael to be the type of person to enjoy flowers, but to his surprise she took one.

“Thank you, how nice of you!”, Vanyael exclaimed. Cyrus couldn’t tell if she was actually thankful or if it was one of her sarcastic ramblings.

“Here, let me help you.”, Lilienne announced and, still without touching the flowers, attached it to the side of Vanyael’s hair. “Now we have matching hair ornamentation!”.

Cyrus felt the need to throw up. How could Lilienne be this excessively sweet and cute? It was almost surreal and unsettling. Was this really the time to act like that? Surely, Vanyael would be fed up by Lilienne’s eccentricities by now. But as he looked at her, she seemed genuinely bashful and even blushing a little. What was going on? Did he cross over to another version of Mundus in his sleep?

“You see, magic can have lots of uses, and I feel I can teach you a lot, if you want!”, Lilienne stated and twirled around, conjuring up several colorful orbs of light that proceeded to dance around her.

Despite her looks and behavior, she _was_ a powerful mage, Cyrus had to admit that. Maybe he would let her show him a few destruction spells later after all.

Soon, they reached the entrance to the cave Erthor was supposedly staying in. A crooked wooden door in a large boulder was all that was visible from the outside, nothing seemed out of order. Maybe Lilienne was right and they could just talk to Erthor quickly and leave. Then again, if everything that had happened to him so far was any indication, it wouldn’t be so easy. Vanyael and Cyrus silently followed Lilienne into the cave. In the light of one of Lilienne’s glowing orbs, they slowly made their way down a steep incline, until they reached a large cavern. Everything appeared silent, but also dark. There was no sign of anyone living here.

“Erthoooor! Are you there? It’s me, Lilienne! Adrienne told me to look for you, so…”, Lilienne suddenly yelled, before Cyrus instinctively put his hand in front of her mouth.

“What are you doing? What if there’s something dangerous in here!”, he whispered, but it was too late.

From the far end of the cavern, just out of reach of the magic light surrounding them, something shambled into view. Zombies, about half a dozen of them started to pour into the room, attracted by the noise and light. All in varied states of decay, they shuffled around, vaguely towards their direction. But if it was just the undead, Cyrus was relieved. Just like on his escape from the prison, he could feel overwhelming confidence. But before he could do anything, Vanyael interrupted his thoughts with a loud shriek.

“Aaaahh, no, please, anything but the undead! I HATE them!”, she cried out.

Cyrus had never seen her this afraid before. In fact, he had never seen her show any signs of fear in the first place, what was going on with her today? Was she sick?

“Please, get them away from me, I just can’t…”, Vanyael kept on rambling. With that, she clung tightly to Cyrus’ left arm, noticeably shivering. Cyrus was so bewildered that he briefly forgot what was going on, how could she be so shocked by the mere undead? On the other side, it made him feel really heroic and proud; he enjoyed it quite a bit.

“Okay ladies, let me handle this, I will show them the power of the Nine Divines!”, he proclaimed while cracking his knuckles and positioning himself in front of them. This was his time to shine!

“Oh, I appreciate the offer, but there’s no need for you to get involved. You helped me enough today already, and besides, it’s my task after all. Just stay back and watch.”, Lilienne announced calmly, still beaming. Obviously, there was _nothing_ that could dampen her mood.

Before Cyrus could protest, she stepped in front of him and Vanyael and readied her staff. She seemed to concentrate, an orange light starting to emanate from her. In a short time, it grew brighter and brighter, eventually attracting the zombies which began running towards them. Faster and faster they ran, and the closer they got the tighter Vanyael gripped Cyrus’ arm. What was Lilienne doing? Why did she let them get so close? Maybe he needed to step in after all.

But just as he thought that, Lilienne threw her arms in the air and screamed at the top of her lungs: “WALL OF FLAME!”.

She proceeded to quickly aim her staff towards the horde of zombies running towards them and with an almost ear-shattering bang and a blinding light, a literal wall of fire was barreling down the cavern. It filled out the whole space, from wall to wall, from floor to ceiling, and any zombies that got caught in it were immediately incinerated to ash. And as quickly as it started, it was over. The cave returned to being dimly lit and quiet. The zombies were gone, leaving behind nothing but a few sizzling ash piles.

For the second time this day, Cyrus stood completely speechless. Even Vanyael appeared to be amazed, her grip loosened a little bit as she gazed upon Lilienne. Cyrus was right, Lilienne was extremely powerful, maybe even more so than he expected originally. Was her happy-go-lucky attitude just an act, a diversion? And why did she yell what she was casting, there was no need for that!

“Are you sufficiently amazed?”, Lilienne asked with a smirk on her face. She wasn’t even exhausted and instead acting like this was something that she did every day. “Come on, let’s go find Erthor!”.

“I… but… how on Nirn…”, Cyrus stammered. He had so many questions, never before had he seen such magic.

“I told you silly, I know a thing or two about magic.”, Lilienne simply stated.

Vanyael was also getting back to her senses, abruptly letting go of Cyrus arm.

“Just now, I wasn’t…”, she mumbled in an obvious flustered state. Cyrus decided not to bug her about it, at least for now. He had enough trouble processing what just happened in front of him.

With Lilienne leading the way, they wandered deeper into the cave. With no more zombies in the way, they had no difficulty getting around and finally reached a corridor that was lit by a torch. If there was anyone still alive down here, this would be the place to find them. Behind a narrow corner, they eventually found Erthor. Thankfully (and to Cyrus’ surprise) he was still alive and well.

“Hey Erthor, Adrienne sent me to…”, Lilienne started, but she was interrupted by the brown-haired Bosmer.

“You... how did you get in here? Are those horrible creatures gone? I'm not going anywhere until they're gone! Horrible things!”. Erthor seemed to be panicking, similarly to Vanyael before.

“Everything is alright, there are no zombies around anymore, I took care of them.”, Lilienne answered cheerfully, proudly pointing to herself.

“They're all gone? I can leave the cave? Oh, thank you! I'm ever so grateful! You're heading back to Skingrad, aren't you? Could I... maybe come with you? It'd be safer, I think. So, what do you say?”, Erthor asserted, visibly relieved.

“Of course, the more, the merrier. Am I right, Cyrus?”, Lilienne exclaimed, giving Cyrus a thumbs up. Erthor’s feelings of shock and panic had no chance against Lilienne’s overpowering euphoria.

“Yeah, fine by me.”. Cyrus shrugged.

“Oh, thank you. You're just too kind.”, Erthor said, now almost crying with relief.

Together, they traversed a small room with a makeshift camp and, after a short walk, exited the cave. Erthor and Lilienne were chatting all the way, the two were getting along well. Vanyael was unusually reserved, just as the day before. Was she still embarrassed? Cyrus just hoped that it didn’t end in another encounter with a bear this time. As they all climbed out the door, the sun was already setting over the forest.

“I hope we'll get to Skingrad soon. I've had enough of the wilderness for now.”, Erthor stated as they were on their way back, before adding: “So, are you a mage from the Arcane University? Has Adrienne sent you to help Lilienne?”.

“She sent me to accompany her, but I’m not from the Arcane University. Just a travelling adventurer of some sort.”, Cyrus explained.

“And this is your wife?”, Erthor asked, while pointing at Vanyael.

“No, why is everyone asking that today!”, Cyrus yelled back at the Elf.

“Yeah, why would anyone marry a scrawny wimp like him?”, Vanyael chimed in.

“Hey now! A wimp? I wasn’t the one who almost soiled himself back then when the zombies attacked!”, Cyrus replied to her.

“Just shut up! I wasn’t scared, okay? I just… I don’t like the undead, that’s all. They smell, and… they’re creepy. There’s nothing weird about disliking living corpses.”, she explained, again looking away from him with her arms crossed, just as she did when she told him about the Dark Brotherhood. Erthor was deliberately looking away, too, seemingly afraid of what he just started. Cyrus couldn’t wait to drop him and Lilienne off at the Mages Guild and maybe getting a few beers at the inn afterwards.

When they reached the Skingrad Mages Guild, it was already dark. They found Adrienne on the first floor, where everything was clean and orderly again, looking like the incident from earlier never happened.

“Adrienne, I'm back! I was rescued!”, Erthor proclaimed happily upon seeing her.

“So it would seem. You are unharmed, I presume?”, Adrienne answered coldly, she looked almost disappointed..

“Well, my pride is a little wounded...”, Erthor admitted.

“Oh, spare me. You're lucky I bothered to send someone after you at all. In the future, would you please be more careful?”. Adrienne was slightly agitated.

“Erm, well... yes. I'll just pack up my supplies and be on my way, then. Thank you for sending someone to help me.”, Erthor replied before getting back to them. “Well, that was about as uncomfortable as I expected. But I want to thank you all again, too. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”.

“Aww, you’re making me blush! No big deal!”, Lilienne countered. Cyrus and Vanyael just nodded and kept smiling awkwardly, as Adrienne started speaking again, now addressing Lilienne.

“Good work. I'll see to it that your recommendation is sent in, as soon as I have a free moment.”.

Lilienne figuratively exploded from happiness. She was laughing and jumping around, hugging an unsuspecting Erthor and an annoyed Adrienne, before thanking her multiple times. Whatever that recommendation was, it meant the world to her.

“Well then, congratulations! I may come back tomorrow for that magic training, but goodbye for now!”, Cyrus announced after clearing his throat to get their attention.

“Actually, why don’t you accompany him a while longer? Cyrus said earlier that he’s travelling to Kvatch, you can go with him and get your next recommendation there!”. Adrienne’s words sent a shiver down his spine. He may have found the second-most evil person in Tamriel, after Scar-Tail. No, even Scar-Tail wouldn’t use this kind of psychological torture.

“What? No, no, there’s no need for you to…”, Cyrus started, but he already knew that he wouldn’t have a chance.

“Ooohh, that’s a great idea! Let’s travel through Cyrodiil together, I can get my recommendations and you gain a powerful mage as your ally, wouldn’t that be great? It’s going to be so much fun!”. Lilienne didn’t even listen to him. Vanyael silently glared at him, but what was he supposed to do?

Eventually, he agreed in taking Lilienne with him, even though he hoped it was only temporary. He could just drop her off at one of the other Mages Guild charters, right? After saying goodbye to everyone at the guild house, Lilienne followed them outside.

“So, what’s the plan? Let’s go to Kvatch immediately!”, she suggested, but Cyrus and Vanyael immediately denied her request in unison.

“Listen, it’s late, and I’m sure we’re all tired. Let’s get a nice bath, a few beers and a good night’s rest and leave tomorrow morning, how does that sound?”, Cyrus explained.

Lilienne protested, but ultimately, they got her to come with them to the Two Sisters Lodge, where they rented rooms for the night. They had a nice meal and a few drinks (except Lilienne who for some reason refused to consume any alcoholic beverage) and later, as Cyrus was laying in his bed, he felt satisfied, but also conflicted. Lilienne was a powerful mage, someone that would definitely help them on their journeys. On the other hand, she was an unpredictable maniac, he couldn’t fathom what trouble she might cause along the line. Should they have travelled to Kvatch immediately, after all? He could have dropped her off there a day earlier that way. Also, he could have finished his task for the Blades sooner, which gave him more time until the debt collectors came back to him. But he figured that, after another crazy day, he earned a peaceful night. They would have enough time tomorrow, after all, what’s the worst thing that could happen? It’s not like the city of Kvatch would vanish overnight.


	7. The Doors of Oblivion

When they exited the inn the next morning, they were greeted by grey skies and a heavy fog, in contrast to the mild and sunny weather Cyrus experienced since he arrived in Cyrodiil. It was the beginning of Heartfire, and the change in weather was indicative of the slowly approaching fall season. According to the map, Kvatch was the next city along the Gold Road towards Anvil in the west. It shouldn’t take them longer than half a day to reach it, maybe they would even be back by evening. As they made their way through the vineyards of Skingrad again, Cyrus decided to finally ask what was on his mind the entire time since he met Lilienne.

“Mind telling me what the deal is with your getup? It doesn’t look very… ordinary.”. He tried to be as subtle as possible; from everything he had seen so far, he got the impression that Lilienne wasn’t the most emotionally stable person.

“Oooh, thanks! I’m glad you noticed. I put my clothes together myself!”, Lilienne answered proudly. Maybe he was _too_ subtle in his critique.

“It certainly looks that way, yes.”, Cyrus replied in the hope of quietly aborting his failed attempt to persuade Lilienne to dress like a regular person, but he was not ready for the floodgates of information he just opened.

“The boots and long socks are from an old winter outfit I owned, the skirt combination I got from a nice lady in Daggerfall and the top I took from some fancy dress.”, Lilienne explained, visibly excited to be able to talk about it. Once started, there was no stopping her.

“Of course, everything is enchanted by yours truly! I’m super happy how everything turned out, isn’t it cute?”, she finished, seemingly asking for approval. Vanyael gave her a thumbs up while smiling, while Cyrus didn’t know what to say.

“You got the skirts from a woman in Daggerfall? What kind of origin story is that, some kind of powerful family heirloom?”. Maybe it was similar to how he got into possession of Chillrend.

“No, nothing too special. I met this super cute girl at night, she was all alone on the streets and told me she could make me happy if I had money, so I told her I liked her clothes and she sold it to me the next day. She almost seemed like she would do everything for money, weird, isn’t it?”, Lilienne disclosed happily.

“Don’t tell me you got it from… from a…”, Cyrus started, but trailed off. Lilienne was even more innocent and unworldly than he thought, and he didn’t want to be the one who destroyed her seemingly innocuous view of the world. “Never mind.”

“So, you’re from Daggerfall? What brings you here to Cyrodiil?”, Vanyael asked.

“Not from Daggerfall directly, but from High Rock. I came here to study magic, of course! At the famed Arcane University at the Imperial City, it’s highly regarded in the whoooole empire!”, Lilienne answered while twirling around, “But for that, I need to get eight recommendations from the local guilds. The one you came along with yesterday was my third one, so after Kvatch I’ll be halfway there!”.

Eight recommendations? Yeah, he seriously had to find a way to leave her with the mages in Kvatch, he didn’t want to get dragged around whole Cyrodiil on her quest to become a full-fledged guild member.

“And you’re from Black Marsh? That’s sooo interesting, I always wanted to visit there!”, Lilienne continued, now addressing Cyrus.

“Who told you that?”, Cyrus responded, alarmed. Was he that well-known already? Probably not the best thing to happen when crazed assassins were after you.

“Vanyael told me yesterday! How you were so alone and afraid over there and then, when you arrived here, were thrown in prison for silly things, I felt really bad for you. But it’s all okay now, because now you have us! We will be the best friends, all of us!”, Lilienne explained, chipper as usual.

Of course, he figured that they would have a talk when he wasn’t around. And Vanyael showed little to no concern for his pride, just as he expected.

“No, yeah… it’s alright. I’m sure it will only get better from here!”, Cyrus exclaimed with fake confidence. He hoped so, at least.

Lilienne was apparently happy with the resolve he had shown, since she gave him a big happy smile before turning around and skipping ahead through the fog. Cyrus glared over to Vanyael, who did her best to suppress her laughter. So far, he had numerous evidences for Vanyael being a demon in disguise, originally hailing from Oblivion. Maybe one day, he could discuss his findings with the proper authorities at the Arcane University.

They kept idly chatting away, as they trudged onward through the dreary weather. Somehow, it felt nice to get to know each other, almost as if social contact to other people was beneficial to one’s mental wellbeing. What a crazy concept. As Cyrus grew up and lived alone for most of his life, he really didn’t know better.

Cyrus told Lilienne the gist of their mission, and in return learned that Lilienne knew a lot about most schools of magic but specialized in destruction, alteration and conjuration. Her Ayleid staff, that she got from a mysterious traveling salesman, apparently amplified her spells. Cyrus just wished she would take better care of something so valuable for she just haphazardly attached it to a crude rope and carried it around on her back. She apparently got along well with Vanyael, something Cyrus was grateful for. Knowing Vanyael’s brash personality, he feared she might upset Lilienne easily. Then again, Lilienne was the kind of person who obviously went out of their way to be friends with everyone, so maybe his worries were uncalled for.

As pleasant as the time they spent together was, the fog made it hard to see further than maybe a few yards, so Cyrus tried to still be wary of his surroundings. After all, someone could easily ambush them right now. After all, Jauffre mentioned that the assassins probably knew of Martin’s location.

“Come on! Run while there's still time!”, a loud voice suddenly proclaimed very close to them.

Cyrus could literally feel his life force escaping the body, together with a shrill scream. Immediately in front of him, a tall figure emerged from the fog. Once again, he embarrassed himself in front of everyone, but at least this time, he wasn’t the only one who got startled. In the corner of his eyes, he caught a brief glimpse of Vanyael before she vanished into thin air, just as Lilienne jumped backwards in terror. Before he could ready his sword, the figure grabbed him by the shoulders. As he looked up, he looked into the face of a seemingly terrified High Elf with combed back hair.

“The Guard still holds the road, but it's only a matter of time before they're overwhelmed!”, the Altmer jabbered frantically.

“What are you talking about? Calm down!”, Cyrus responded.

“Gods' blood, you don't know, do you? Daedra overran Kvatch last night! There were glowing portals outside the walls! Gates to Oblivion itself! There was a huge creature... something out of a nightmare... came right over the walls... blasting fire. They swarmed around it... killing...”, the Elf rambled, violently shaking him.

“That’s impossible. Kvatch? Portals? Overrun by Daedra?”, Cyrus asked, in shock.

Stable portals to Oblivion shouldn’t be feasible, at least not as far he knew. How close to Kvatch were they, anyways? The fog made it hard to guess how far they already travelled, but judging from the elf’s words, they must have been close by.

“Go and see for yourself! Kvatch is a smoking ruin! We're all that's left, do you understand me? Everyone else is dead!”, the High Elf replied. Kvatch was destroyed, people were dead? What a bad timing, just when he was about to meet someone there… _Wait a minute._

“If so, then… how did you and the others you mentioned escape from the city?”, Cyrus inquired. If there were other survivors, Martin may be with them. He hoped, at least.

“It was Savlian Matius... some of the other guards... helped some of us escape... they cut their way out, right through the city gates. Savlian says they can hold the road. No... no, I don't believe him. Nothing can stop them. If you'd seen it, you'd know... I'm getting out of here before it's too late! They'll be here any minute, I'm telling you. Run while you can!”, the High Elf answered and turned around immediately, but Cyrus managed to grab his arm before he could run away.

“What about Martin? Is he safe?”, Cyrus asked as the realization dawned on him. Jauffre told him, didn’t he? That the assassins may have known about Martin’s whereabouts. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I knew a priest named Martin once. I'm sure he's dead, just like the rest of them. They're all dead, don't you understand? There's nothing left here for me. I'm getting out as soon as I can!”, the Elf exclaimed, before freeing himself from Cyrus’ grasp and running away from them. Lilienne decided to send him off with a silly salute; apparently, she regained her usual carefree persona after being scared before.

Cyrus was left standing in the middle of the road. He was furious. Why did this happen, why now! Why couldn’t things just work out fine for once? Every single time he tried to accomplish something, things made a turn for the worse. There was no way he would accept this! He had to find the other survivors and this Savlian Matius.

“What was that all about?”, Vanyael inquired after becoming visible again right next to him.

“You heard it. Apparently, Kvatch was attacked.”, Cyrus answered briefly, trying to come up with the best course of action.

“Oh no, my recommendation…”, Lilienne whined. They didn’t have time for this.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe we should investigate. We need to check if Martin is still alive.”, he announced. Vanyael nodded sternly, while Lilienne saluted for a second time.

“At your command, sir! As an aspiring member of the Mages Guild, I cannot turn my back on my colleagues in Kvatch! Maybe we will find out about this Martin person you’re looking for, too!”, she asserted, now showing bold determination.

It was settled, then. Both of them followed Cyrus as he hurried through the fog, into the direction the Altmer came from. Soon, they reached a signpost that guided them to the right, and after climbing a hill they could make out a small encampment on the side of the road. About half a dozen people were located there, every single one of them showing signs of exhaustion and terror. An old man in ragged priest robes was mumbling about the Gods having forsaken them or something, everyone seemed to be stressed out. Things were not looking good, as he expected. They quickly traversed the camp and made their way up a steep incline.

The road meandered up a cliff, and as they got higher up, the fog slowly cleared. But something was off. It should have been the middle of the day, but for some reason, it seemed to get darker. As they approached some makeshift wooden barriers, a soldier in white armor, emblazoned with the symbol of a fox, came running towards them, yelling.

“Stand back, civilian! This is no place for you. Get back to the encampment at once!”.

This had to be Savlian Matius, the head of the Kvatch city guards the High Elf was talking about. From his weary face, Cyrus determined that this man was in a desperate need of a nap.

After Cyrus expressed their intentions, Savlian was visibly relieved. He briefly explained the situation: At night, stable portals to Oblivion had formed in front of the city and an army of Daedra invaded the city. Almost everything was destroyed, and barely anyone made it out alive.

As Savlian was talking, the sky kept on turning darker at the same rate the fog cleared up. But it didn’t just get darker it became… reddish? There was no mistaking it, it turned to a deep red color, and the clouds were moving far faster than anything Cyrus had ever seen. Additionally, he could hear faint thunder in the distance. Now, Cyrus wasn’t exactly an expert on weather, and he hadn’t lived in Cyrodiil for long, but he was pretty positive that this was not a common or natural occurrence. Vanyael and Lilienne evidently noticed it too, judging from their bewildered expressions while looking around at the sky.

Savlian didn’t seem to care, though; he kept on explaining. Cyrus wished he had this man’s unwavering determination. Apparently, there were people still locked in the city, and an Oblivion Gate was present in front of the city gates, blocking the entrance. As they followed Savlian up to the barriers, they witnessed the full extent of the attack.

Behind the wooden barriers, a gigantic arch in the form of the Daedric letter _Oht_ loomed over a wide and completely scorched plateau. It was made of black stone and on the inside, a wall of fire blocked the view, with large flames flickering outward. Behind it, Cyrus could make out the blackened and partially destroyed city walls of Kvatch, all surrounded by the burned remains of trees swaying in the wind. Cyrus hadn’t experienced such intense hopelessness since he got thrown into the Imperial Prison.

“What about a person named Martin? Did he get out safely?”, Cyrus wanted to know, averting his eyes from the scene of destruction in front of him.

“You mean the priest? Last I saw him, he was leading a group towards the Chapel of Akatosh. If he's lucky, he's trapped in there with the rest of them, at least safe for the moment. If he's not...”, Savlian replied. Great, another do-gooder and divine priest like himself that got into trouble. He saw more and more similarities between him and Martin.

At any rate, Savlian made it very clear that he needed to get rid of the Oblivion Gate before making any progress towards the city itself. Cyrus picked up the subtext, Savlian obviously wanted him to help to do something about it. He turned to his companions, both of them seemed determined, but probably for varying reasons.

“Ah, to Oblivion with it… What can we do to help?”, Cyrus finally suggested. He already regretted his decision; it would have been so much easier to just leave and tell Jauffre that Martin was dead.

“You want to help? You're kidding, right? Hmm... if you're serious, maybe I can put you to use. It'll likely mean your death, though. Are you sure?”, Savlian asked sternly. What a question was that? The honest answer would have been a very hard no.

“Yes, of course.”, Cyrus replied. He wondered, if he only faked confidence for long enough, would he actually get more confident in the long run?

Savlian seemed very pleased with this answer, almost happy. He nodded and pointed to the colossal structure in the field in front of them and presented his plan: “I don't know how to close this Gate, but it must be possible, because the enemy closed the ones they opened during the initial attack. You can see the marks on the ground where they were, with the Great Gate right in the middle.”.

He pointed towards a few other large obsidian stone structures that were distributed over the plateau, but none of them was a fully shaped _Oht_ like the active gate in front of them.

“I sent men into the Gate, to see if they could find a way to shut it. They haven't come back. If you can get in there, find out what happened to them. If they're alive, help them finish the job. If not, see what you can do on your own. The best I can say is, good luck. If you make it back alive, we'll be waiting for you. It's a brave thing you're doing.”.

Savlian spoke in a very matter-of-fact way, in contrast to Cyrus who almost felt like collapsing. Somehow, his knees apparently turned to jelly while they were talking. After telling them to die violently in whatever place that gate was leading to, Savlian regrouped with a few other soldiers at the barriers. Cyrus tried his best to take steps forward, but the closer he got to the Oblivion Gate the harder it got.

“Come on, we don’t have all day. Let’s get it over with. Besides, we might be the first people in history to do something like this!”, Vanyael remarked from behind him, before giving him a hard slap on the back.

“Amazing… I never thought that I would be able to experience something like that. After all, the scholars say this _shouldn’t_ be possible! A stable portal to Oblivion…”, Lilienne exclaimed, running in front of them.

She got closer to the gate and started to inspect it with academic interest. _Why were they not scared?_ But just as she got directly in front of it, a loud noise erupted and from the middle of the wall of flames inside the arch, multiple creatures emerged.

Cyrus identified them immediately as Scamps, little hunched over humanoid Daedra with tails, pointy ears and sharp claws and fangs. Funnily enough, it gave him a bit of his confidence back. They were one of the weakest Daedric creatures, and the ones in front of him looked even smaller and more scrawny than regular ones. If that was all there was left of the invading Daedra forces, they could actually have a chance.

“Oooohh, Scamps, I used to summon them when I was little! Do they live on the other side?”, Lilienne proclaimed cheerfully, before violently incinerating them with a slight movement of the hand.

Between Vanyael and Lilienne with their respective abilities, Cyrus seriously needed to make sure to stay on their good side, he was once again remembered of that.

“See, just lowly Scamps, now let’s go! Lilienne, if you are that interested in the gate, want to find out how it looks from the other side? We’re going in, now!”, Vanyael asserted and grabbed Cyrus’ arm. She dragged him closer to the gate, he could feel the immense heat emanating from the flaring wall in front of him. Lilienne followed suit, looking very inquisitive.

“Wait, before we go in, let’s check what happens when something traverses to the other side...“, Cyrus proposed, if only to stall for more time.

“Good idea! Here goes nothing!”, Lilienne replied immediately and stuck her hand through the veil of flames before Cyrus could stop her.

“Teehee, it tickles! And it’s not burning at all, only slightly warm. I guess we are safe!”, she explained calmly.

Cyrus was bewildered, he walked around the gate to the other side, but Lilienne’s hand was nowhere to be seen. The flames really were a portal to Oblivion, by the Nine!

“Okay, enough beating around the bush. We should get this over with. And before you change your mind…”, Vanyael stated, before grabbing Cyrus’ arm again and jumping through the veil, pulling him along after her.

He didn’t have time to react or complain, just like that he got dragged through the flames in an instant. It felt like he just stepped through a warm gist of air, and after briefly feeling disoriented, he realized what had happened. Just as Lilienne’s hand, they didn’t end up on the backside of the gate, instead they found themselves somewhere else entirely.

Together with Lilienne, they exited from a gate identical to the one they entered, but the area around them couldn’t be any more different from anything Cyrus had seen in Tamriel. Seas of molten stone were surrounding them, only speckled by small scorched islands under a crimson sky. Relentless strong winds blew over the jagged landscape, but at the same time, the atmosphere was unpleasantly warm and dry. As he looked around, he could make out large black towers looming in the distance, bearing an asymmetrical, almost angry looking design. It was clear that this place was not made for mortals like them. Even Vanyael, still grabbing his arm, looked around in awe of the surreal environment they suddenly found themselves in. Lilienne on the other hand didn’t seem to be too surprised, instead, she was already frolicking around the gate. Given the situation, it didn’t take Cyrus long to come to a conclusion.

“Alright, we did what we could, too bad. Let’s just head back and…”, Cyrus announced and turned around towards the Oblivion Gate they came out from, but Vanyael reinforced her grip around his arm.

“Don’t chicken out of it now! You were the one who dragged us to Kvatch in the first place, pull yourself together!”, she scolded.

“I’m not chickening out! Don’t you realize where we are? This place is death, what are we supposed to accomplish here besides dying?”, Cyrus retorted, desperately trying to wiggle free of her grasp.

“Besides, someone is in trouble over there.”, Lilienne added, interrupting their struggle.

From the small hill they arrived on, they could oversee three large crude stone bridges spanning the sea of lava in different directions. In front one of them, where Lilienne was pointing, Cyrus spotted someone fighting a few Scamps on his own. Judging by the armor, it was one of the other guards Savlian had sent in. Cyrus should have been happy to see at least one of them alive and well, but on the other hand he now felt the obligation to stay here and help him.

“Uuugghh, Fine, let’s see if we can do something to help.”, Cyrus surrendered after a brief internal battle.

As much as he wanted to run away from this place, he couldn’t leave someone behind in such hostile place. Together, they made their way down the hill and in a matter of seconds, the Scamps were taken care of. Cyrus would have liked to think that it was a combined effort, but in reality, Vanyael and Lilienne dispatched them while he was staying behind, making sure to support them with restoration magic, should they ever need it. They didn’t. Somehow, it made him feel useless, but he figured it was better than what he had to endure at the Imperial Catacombs or Fort Ash.

“Thank the Nine! I never thought I'd see another friendly face...”, the guard stated, clearly relieved.

“What happened? Where are the others?”, Cyrus wanted to know.

“The others... taken... they were taken to the tower! Captain Matius sent us in to try and close the gate. We were ambushed, trapped, and picked off. I managed to escape, but the others are strewn across that bridge.”, he explained, pointing to the middle bridge in front of them that was closed off with a tall spiked gate, before continuing: “They took Menien off to the big tower. You've got to save him! I'm getting out of here!”.

“Wait, getting out? You want to leave us? You…”, Cyrus started. He intended to stop him, but could he blame him? By the Nine, he wanted to run away himself, how could he deny it to others? “I mean… I guess it’s okay. Get out of here and go help Savlian outside.”.

“The Captain is still holding the barricade? I figured I was the last one left alive. Alright. I'll try to get out of here and let the Captain know what's going on.”, the guard finished and rushed to the Oblivion Gate. In an instant, he stepped through the veil of flames and vanished.

“Well, that leaves just us for now. Let’s get to work.”, Vanyael stated and proceeded to march onward. With no better ideas himself, Cyrus reluctantly followed her, further and further away from the gate that lead back to Mundus and to relative safety.

The large metal gate on the bridge in front of them was closed shut and one of the bridges was destroyed, so they had only one way to go. Vanyael confidently lead the way, with Lilienne absent-mindedly skipping along and Cyrus nervously trudging behind them.

Luckily, apart from a few Scamps, they met little to no resistance as they wandered through the desolate wasteland. The majority of Daedra forces must have been used for the attack on the city, Cyrus theorized. Additionally, he was surprised to find that even in this place, plants were growing here and there. Lilienne proved to be very knowledgeable and had something to say about every piece of flora they came to pass.

There was Bloodgrass, a tall weed that looked like it was engrained with tiny red lettering. The Spiddal flower, a plant that reminded Cyrus of a thorny sunflower, had the unpleasant side effect of spewing out spores to poison everyone who tries to touch them. His least-favorite plant had to be the Harrada Root, a kind of sentient bramble that relentlessly lashed out at anyone close by, something Cyrus experienced himself the first time he saw it. Together with the constant heat, he disliked this place more and more with every step they took.

“How come you know so much about these plants, anyway?”, Cyrus asked after they defeated another tiny Scamp along the way. “That reminds me, you weren’t the least bit surprised when we arrived here…”.

“Oh, back in High Rock, I studied the Daedric Princes and their respective realms, a very interesting topic. I talked with a loooot of people who experienced things firsthand, so I had a vague idea how this would turn out. This place, for example, looks like it could be the _Deadlands_ , the plane of Mehrunes Dagon. It’s known for being… well, dreary like this.”, Lilienne explained.

“Mehrunes Dagon, huh…”, Cyrus mumbled. The emperor and Jauffre mentioned him, so it was true, and this gate was part of their attack on Martin?

“Not my Daedric deity of choice.”, Vanyael chimed in, “I’m more of a Nocturnal person.”.

“You are not supposed to like any of them! As a former priest of the Nine Divines, I have to…”, Cyrus started but a loud rumble overhead made him stop.

From a steep cliff to their right, a rockslide was coming down towards them.

“Watch out!”. At the last second, Cyrus dived behind a large clawed pillar, while Vanyael elegantly dodged a boulder and jumped to his side. Lilienne, on the other hand, conjured up a forcefield around her that repelled the rocks. It was ridiculous how graceful and effortless it looked for her. Less graceful was the sight of a last tiny rock smacking her head after she already dispelled the shield and smugly grinned at them.

“Oww!”, Lilienne winced and shielded the side of her head with her hand, “Anyone got a healing potion?”.

“Just use a healing spell, you’re a mage after all.”, Cyrus commented, inspecting the wound.

“Well, the thing is… I… Uhm…”, Lilienne stammered, suspiciously blushing.

“What? What’s the problem?”, Cyrus inquired.

“I.. I don’t know any. I always kind of… ignored the school of restoration. It just seemed waaaay too boring. Besides, I’m skilled in alchemy and could always make my own healing potions!”, Lilienne admitted.

“Are you kidding me? You’re calling yourself the best mage in Cyrodiil or something and can’t even heal yourself?”, Cyrus responded. He could feel his blood pressure rising again, what was with all the people around him? Why was everyone so unreasonable?

“Whatever, just hold still a moment, restoration is _my_ strong suit, after all.”, he added and prepared a healing spell.

“Actually…”, Lilienne started, but Cyrus interrupted her.

“Shut up, no time for false pride now.”. With that, he cast the spell and… immediately felt better himself. _Huh?_ That was weird. Did he accidentally heal himself? That had never happened before, what was going on?

“The thing is… you probably won’t be able to heal or support me with your restoration magic, heh…”, Lilienne stated while shyly fidgeting around, grinning sheepishly.

“What? Why not?”, Cyrus asked, slowly losing his composure.

“You see, I’m a Breton, and I’m born under the sign of the Atronach. Together with the enchantments on my clothes, I tend to… well, reflect or absorb most of the spells directed at me, including beneficial ones”, Lilienne explained. Vanyael burst out laughing. Cyrus exploded.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU REFLECT MY SPELLS? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HELP YOU IN BATTLE! I’M A PRIEST FOR AKATOSH’S SAKE! AND WHAT DOES YOUR BIRTH SIGN HAS TO DO WITH ANYTHING?”, he yelled.

“It’s not my fault I was born this way! Just don’t be mean and give me a potion the next time!”, Lilienne countered, slightly enraged as well. Cyrus turned away and took a deep breath. He was surrounded by idiots!

“Also, birth signs give you certain powers, if you didn’t know that! The Atronach makes me reaaaally good at magic, but my mental energy doesn’t regenerate as good as other’s, I usually carry potions with me to rejuvenate my mind. Additionally, I can absorb spells to replenish it. It’s pretty impressive, isn’t it?”, she added. Somehow, the fact that she was seemingly back to her usual goofy self annoyed him even more. He figured it that the best cause of action would be to just move on.

“Don’t worry, he will calm down quickly again, he’s not the type to hold grudges.”, Vanyael comforted Lilienne. She was right.

While quietly walking along the only path, encircling the plateau where the strange towers were erected on, he could feel his fury slowly subside. Maybe he should work on his anger issues at some point, but it was not easy if he was stuck on a plane of Oblivion and every person around him was doing their best to go on his nerves. Vanyael was invisible most of the time and moving around too much while Lilienne absorbed and reflected spells, just great. How was he supposed to help them if things got rough?

After battling a few more Scamps, they reached a small plaza in between the towers. There were 5 of them in total, a taller and wider one with a pulsating light on top sat enthroned in the middle, connected by high narrow bridges to two of the smaller ones. If he had to guess, that’s where they would find a way to close the gate. The front of the tower was adorned with a tall, featureless stone door. There was no visible hinge, but when Cyrus touched it, the Oht engraved on the front started glowing and it started to slide open on its own. With a scraping noise, so loud that it probably alerted every hostile creature in a 100-yard radius, the stone door slowly opened and revealed the inside of the structure.

It was unpleasantly hot outside, but it was nothing compared to the heat emanating from the large pillar of fire situated in the middle of the large circular hall that extended upwards to the top of the building. Sprouting from a pool of turbulent lava it ascended upwards as well, where it was eventually shrouded in darkness. Along the walls, multiple galleries and walkways segmented the tall room on different heights.

As soon as they entered, they were attacked, but not by Scamps this time. A pair of Dremora, humanoid Daedra in imposing Daedric armor, came rushing towards them, weapons drawn. They shouted insults in a strange voice, their horned faces distorted in anger.

The fight was slightly harder, but eventually, they overcame just another obstacle without major injuries (except for Lilienne’s still untreated head wound). Cyrus could see Vanyael rushing around collecting whatever valuables the Dremora might have had with them. Amazing how she could still hold on to her worldly desires in a place like this.

Another stone door lead them into a tall hallway that reminded Cyrus of the sacral architecture in cathedrals, despite this place being as ungodly as possible. After a narrow stairwell they reached a room with windows to the outside, tinting everything in a pale red light.

After dispatching the Scamps and Dremora inside, Lilienne headed towards the middle of the room, where a small fountain was located. The only difference was that instead of water, it seemed to spray _blood_. To his shock, Lilienne didn’t hesitate and dumped her hands into it.

“What are you doing!”, Cyrus yelled and rushed over to stop her. It was disgusting, and nothing good could come out of this, what was she thinking?

But to his surprise, he realized that the wound on her head slowly faded away.

“It’s a healing well!”, Lilienne exclaimed happily, wiping away the blood-like substance on a rag she produced from a tiny pouch ion her belt. “I’ve read about them, they tend to be scattered around the places where Daedra live.”.

Dumbfounded, Cyrus took a few steps back. This place was horrible, and the way Lilienne dealt with it was creeping him out, too. They really needed to leave as soon as possible.

The next set of doors lead onto one of the galleries in the main hall. And so it went on, hallways and corridors lead them higher and higher up the numerous walkways, and after what seemed and eternity of walking around and battling Daedra (including a Clannfears, large lizard creatures with sharp claws), they finally reached the top. Above them, a dark red ceiling, that looked like it was made out of red leather, stretched over the abyss, only illuminated by the column of fire in the middle. Unfortunately, that’s as far as they could get, since the next set of doors ahead of them did not move an inch, no matter how hard they tried.

“Great, what now? Any ideas?”, Cyrus asked around. He was exhausted, they wandered these halls forever and didn’t seem to make any progress on their endeavor to close the gate.

“Well, we are supposed to find this Menien guy, right? We didn’t find him in here, so let’s try one of the smaller towers. There were doors on the lower levels we didn’t check, I bet they lead there via one of the bridges we saw earlier.”, Vanyael suggested.

“Why didn’t you say that before, now we have to walk back the whole way!”, Cyrus complained.

“YOU were the one asking for suggestions, don’t blame it on me now! Also, you were the one who lead the way the whole time, if you wanted to try out the other doors, you could have done so.”, she retorted.

“What am I, a tour guide? Preposterous! You’re in this as well, so please, go ahead and speak your mind anytime, you can stop me if you think what I do is stupid!”, Cyrus scoffed back.

“Oh yeah? And getting berated again, just like now? What a great idea, my favorite pastime!”. Vanyael glared at him and he just returned the gaze. This woman!

“Guys, no fighting!”, Lilienne interrupted their bickering. “I don’t like it when my friends don’t get along!”. She made a face like a child that just got told its birthday got canceled.

She was right, they didn’t have time for this, anyways. They agreed on a ceasefire before tracking back downwards. In one of the halls, they reached a door that lead onto one of the narrow bridges they had seen from below. The perpetual winds were even stronger up here, and Cyrus felt dizzy as he looked down.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights, too?”, Vanyael sneered, but Cyrus just signed her to shut up.

Carefully, he made his way across, quickly followed by Vanyael and Lilienne. As soon as they entered the smaller tower at the other end, a loud voice proclaimed:

“Over here! Quickly!”.

Cyrus looked around frantically. From the landing, a spiral staircase lead up and down in the hollow tower.

“In the cage! Up here!”, the voice stated. They hurried up the ramp, where another Dremora was waiting for them, but Lilienne made short work of him with a well-placed shock spell. Inside a bloody clawed cage in the middle of the room, a Breton with a half-bald head in ragged pants was imprisoned; this had to be Menien.

“Quickly, quickly! There's no time! You must get to the top of the large tower. The Sigil Keep, they call it. That's what keeps the Oblivion Gate open! Find the Sigil Stone. Remove it, and the Gate will close! Hurry! The Keeper has the key, you must take the key!”, Menien explained frantically and pointed towards the dead Dremora on the floor.

“The Sigil Stone? Wait, how do I get you out of there?”, Cyrus wanted to know.

“Take the key. Get to the Sigil Keep and find the Sigil Stone. It's the only way. Don't worry about me; there's no time! Get moving!”, Menien repeated while cowering in his cage.

“Cyrus, I have the key, the guy was right!”, Vanyael reported from the other end of the room.

“Okay, if you insist, we will be on our way. We will come back for you afterwards, I promise.”, Cyrus told the scared Menien, before they left the tower again.

Somehow, talking to Menien put a certain urgency in their task. They hurried back to the top of the main tower, where the key fit perfectly in a notch in the door. Behind it, they were greeted by another large open room, seemingly made out of solid fiery ash, above the dome that enclosed the tower below. This was the room the column of flame lead to, this was the room where the Sigil Stone was located, the Sigil Keep.

On each side of the flame pillar, jagged claws formed some sort of stairway to the upper level, where they encountered another Daedric creature: a Flame Atronach, a seemingly female being consisting completely out of fire. But having seen a much stronger Storm Atronach the other day, Cyrus couldn’t feel threatened by it. In the end, their time in Oblivion so far had been far easier as he expected, almost underwhelming.

Another set of ramps lead to an even higher platform. From there, through the open ceiling, Cyrus could make out the red stormy sky. In front of him, the fire pillar ended, feeding a rotating black orb that emitted a high-pitched clinking noise. The glowing sphere was sitting above a large solid metal ring, suspended in the air by gigantic chains attached to the walls above them. This had to be the Sigil Stone, the object that held open the gate.

“What should we do now? How do we get rid of it?”, Cyrus wondered, but once again, Lilienne seemed to have the answer.

“Easy, we remove it. Just yank it out, that should do the trick.”.

With that, Lilienne stepped in front of him and started to magically remove the orb, similarly to the flowers the day before. Slowly it floated towards her, until she finally grabbed it.

“See, easy as pie!”, Lilienne exclaimed triumphantly, holding up the glowing black ball.

“Finally, something works without further problems! Let’s just get to Menien and…”, Cyrus started, but he realized immediately that he shouldn’t have said anything.

The fiery column, not longer bound by the Sigil Stone, shot upwards into the stormy sky and with it, seemed to engulf everything in flames. Everything around them started to shake violently, it felt like the whole tower was crumbling. Slowly, they backed away from the metal ring, that now got ripped from its chains and plunged into the flaming abyss.

With their backs to the wall, there was no way out. Around them, everything started to fall apart, soon, the flames would burn them alive. Lilienne hugged the orb next to him, visibly scared. Apparently, this was not what she expected. Even Vanyael showed fear, for the second time in two days. For some reason, Cyrus involuntarily grabbed her hand. Why did he come so far, just to die now? If he reached Aetherius after this, he would have a serious talk with the Gods!

And just like that, a blending light washed over them, followed by a deep darkness.


	8. It's Always Stormy in Kvatch

The next thing Cyrus felt was his body hitting the floor very hard and his face burrowing into the ground. The intense smell of dirt, soot and petrichor assaulted his nostrils. What was going on? It didn’t feel like they were still in the Sigil Keep they had been in just seconds ago. Did he die? Was this the afterlife? He didn’t expect Aetherius to be so… earthy.

Just as he attempted to get up, something fell on top of his back and knocked him back down again. As he tried to look up, his vision was obscured by red hair.

“Get off me! What are you doing, what is going on!”, Cyrus cried out, thrashing about like a toddler that just learned how to crawl.

“I think you can let go of my hand now, thanks.”, the voice of Vanyael groaned to his right.

In an instant, he opened his right hand that he had kept clenched the entire time. He could feel his face burn up. Maybe it was a good thing he was laying face down. The weight on his back lifted, and as he got up, he realized that they were not in Aetherius, but back in front of what looked like the remnants of the Oblivion Gate they entered, still resting on the burned plateau of Kvatch.

Somehow, the removal of the Sigil Stone must have brought them back to Mundus. Even the weather changed, instead of the creepy red thunderstorm that they experienced in Oblivion, an intense regular thunderstorm was raging over the plateau, accompanied by dark skies, heavy rain and strong winds. In fact, the rain was so strong, that they got drenched in seconds. In contrast to the unpleasant warmth of the realm of Oblivion before, it felt almost refreshing, at least for a moment. Much more importantly, they were all still alive! If not for his whole body hurting from hitting the ground, he would have jumped up in happiness.

“Thanks for breaking my fall!”, Lilienne proclaimed while giving him a silly thumbs-up, still hugging the Sigil Stone before putting it away in the tiny pouch on her belt. So it traversed to Mundus with them for some reason, what a peculiar thing. Also, what kind of magic was that? That little bag thingy shouldn’t be realistically capable of storing something of that size, he needed her to tell him when this was all over.

In Cyrus’ opinion, after all that had happened in the last hours, they already deserved to go home now straight away; this was enough adventuring for one day. But Savlian seemed to have other plans, as he came rushing towards them. Additionally, Cyrus recalled that the dumb priest still needed rescuing.

“You closed the Gate? I knew you could do it! This is our chance to launch a counterattack! I need you to come with us. You've got far more combat experience than these men.”, Savlian exclaimed happily.

More combat experience than trained guards? Either the Kvatch city guard was the worst group of soldiers in Cyrodiil or Savlian was really bad at reading people.

“Are you able to join us now? I can wait, but not for long. We've got to move quickly, before they have a chance to barricade the city gate.”, Savlian finished, awaiting a response from Cyrus.

But it was Vanyael who answered instead: “Alright, let’s go.”.

“Wait, shouldn’t we…”, Cyrus started but it was too late. Savlian was already running towards the city gates, yelling “For Kvatch!”.

Once again, Cyrus was in awe of that man’s unending confidence; he gave Vanyael a run for her gold in terms of blind activism. Speaking of Vanyael, she immediately went after him, followed by Lilienne and the other guards, including the one they rescued from Oblivion. Curiously, there were together with two other men that Cyrus didn’t remember being around before. One of them was a tall burly man in full steel plate armor, looking incredibly tough, with a huge battle axe on his back. The other was someone that looked more like a peasant, from his small stature probably a Bosmer. If the armored person was only half as capable as he looked, they would have easy pickings. With a sigh, Cyrus reluctantly followed them to the city. He desired a little pause to breathe and collect his thoughts, but with so many overeager people around, it obviously wasn’t possible.

What lay behind the city walls was even more discouraging that what they had seen outside. The Altmer on the road didn’t exaggerate: the whole city was in ruins. All the houses were crumbling or burned to the ground, the remains still burning with the flames hissing in the unrelenting rain. The large chapel in the center of the city was missing its spire, the debris of it blocking the road ahead of them towards the northern part of the city.

In contrast to the bleak state of the former city, their battle against the remaining Daedra still milling around was clearly one-sided. The buff armored guy was nearly singlehandedly killing every single Scamp and Clannfear on the way from the gate to the chapel, Cyrus’ first impression proved to be correct. In addition to Lilienne striking poses before unleashing some of the most destructive elemental destruction spells he had ever seen, there was little left to do for him or the guards, so he decided to just stay back and let them handle it. Vanyael on the other hand was nowhere to be seen the entire time, returning to her weird fighting style Cyrus got already used to. All in all, it was going swimmingly, and they reached the ruined chapel in no time.

“Ha haaaa!”, Savlian yelled triumphantly once they cleared the plaza, “We wiped the bastards out! It's safe to pull those people out of the chapel. Let's get in there and make sure they're all right. Come on. This is only the beginning of the battle for Kvatch. We can discuss the next phase once the civilians are safe.”. ‘ _We’ wiped them out, alright._ At least Savlian knew how to hold motivational speeches.

Inside the chapel, they found maybe half a dozen survivors, cuddled up around makeshift beddings. The pews were moved aside to house a multitude of crates and barrels with all the provisions they could gather while fleeing from the Daedra. Two Kvatch city guards kept watch over the civilians, and both of them were overjoyed when they saw Savlian and the others enter the chapel. Cyrus on the other hand was overjoyed to be out of the rain.

Savlian engaged in conversation with one of the guards, a female Redguard called Tierra, about the state of things. Apparently, besides her and Berich Inian, the other guard, four people were all that was left of the citizens of Kvatch. Cyrus hoped that Martin was one of them, but he didn’t want to impose on them right now, so he decided to wait until everything was over.

The plan was to let the two guards walk the civilians out of the city to the encampment down the road, while everyone else would stay and fend off the remaining Daedra in the city. Savlian gave everyone a little time to rest, something Cyrus was grateful for. He immediately plopped down in one of the pews, as Tierra and Berich marched the citizens out the door. Closing his eyes for a bit, he realized how exhausted he was. It must have been already night, with the thunderstorm raging it was hard to tell, and Cyrodiil was a stressful country. But as far as his “adventure” went, after all his lamentations and worries, everything worked out really well so far.

“See, after all your lamentations and worries, everything worked out really well so far!”, Vanyael exclaimed proudly, sitting down next to him and pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Stop reading my mind, you witch.”, Cyrus replied wearily. “Besides, we got a lot of help from those two guys, whoever they are.”, he added while pointing to the armored man and his companion. Just as he did that, the buff guy turned around, glaring at him. Both of them made their way over to him, looking menacing in the process. _Oh no_ , did he make another enemy so quickly? It was rude to point at people!

Standing directly in front of Cyrus and Vanyael, the heavily armored man looked even more imposing. He was several inches taller than Cyrus, which was to be expected from a Nord like him. From the small opening in his steel helmet, Cyrus could make out brown hair and blue eyes on a weathered face. His companion was a small Bosmer in common clothing, just as Cyrus had guessed. In comparison to the tall Nord next to him, he looked horribly weak and tiny. Judging from his hair color, he could have been Vanyael’s brother, only that he had his hair combed back into a massive spike, which made him look even more ridiculous. Together with his severely bushy eyebrows and demented grin, it made him look more like court jester than anything else. Cyrus instinctively wondered how those two came together and what on Nirn they were doing here.

“Hello! You are not with the city guard, are you? My name is Cyrus Amentius, and this is Vanyael, pleased to meet you.”, Cyrus introduced themselves and timidly held out a hand in an attempt to make a good first impression.

The Nord didn’t take his hand, instead, he just bent down to be on eyelevel with Cyrus, before grunting loudly.

“Ugh, milk-drinker.”, he scoffed in a rough voice before turning away again. _What a jerk. Also, apparently not the most talkative person._ The silly-looking Wood Elf next to him made up for that though, more than he had to.

“By Azura, by Azura, by Azura! You came out of this scary looking gate earlier; you must be strong! But not as strong as Dragonheart, the Grand Champion of the Arena!”, the Elf stated with an annoying overzealous voice. His mannerisms reminded Cyrus of an even more hyper Lilienne.

“The what now?” Cyrus asked, confused.

“The new Grand Champion? That’s him?”, Vanyael chimed in, “They had this huge event in the Imperial Arena a few days ago, remember? The day we found out where Jauffre lives.”.

Of course, everyone was gone from the streets, he vaguely remembered. In the following conversation, he learned that the unfriendly armored guy was, in fact, the new Grand Champion, after defeating the former one. “Dragonheart” was the (in Cyrus’ opinion, stupid) name he gave himself while fighting there. His real name was a mystery to anyone, including the Bosmer who was following him around. He was more of an adoring fan, worshipping Dragonheart with all his being. Coincidentally, he refused to give Cyrus his name, too; obviously trying to mimic the mysterious aura of his idol.

In just a few minutes, Cyrus found out enough about the two to wish he never met them in the first place. He had his own set of mildly infuriating people he was stuck with; he didn’t need two more. Unfortunately, they had agreed to help retake the city alongside them, so he was stuck with them for a little while longer. At least he had one more reason to get over with this as quickly as possible.

“Well, it’s been nice meeting you, I will go see what Savlian has planned, now.”, Cyrus said and got up from the bench. He really didn’t want to spend more time with any of them anymore.

“Vanyael, you’re coming? We should get ready. Lilienne, you too… what on Nirn are you doing!”.

The whole time, Lilienne has been cowering in a corner behind a column, rummaging in her pouch until she found the Sigil Stone and was now fumbling around with it and her staff.

“Would you put that away, already? We don’t even know if it’s safe to play around with it, for Akatosh’s sake!”, Cyrus reminded her sternly. He didn’t want to mess with potentially dangerous artifacts from Oblivion without consulting a specialist first.

“No, it’s perfectly fine, see! I just need to…”, Lilienne mumbled, and with that, she grabbed her magic staff and violently ripped the blue stone off from its tip.

Cyrus was in shock. The damn thing looked like it was more valuable than his entire existence and the way she treated it triggered something in him. Lilienne proceeded to toss the crystal away like it was garbage, before affixing the newly found Sigil Stone in its place. As soon as she put it above the cavity the crystal used to be in, an unsaintly red glow emanated from it and the stone got bound to the staff by something that looked like little tendrils of light. Just what kind of mage was she, really?

“I… never mind.”, Cyrus exclaimed while pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just please, don’t treat your valuables like that!”.

“Okay, okay… _papa_.”, Lilienne responded, making a silly face.

“I’m not… don’t act even more like a child!”, Cyrus responded. The next time he was at Skingrad, he needed to make sure to give Adrienne a piece of his mind for making him tag along someone like Lilienne.

“You surely act like a parent, though.”, Vanyael noted.

 _Again, with the backstabbing, could she not?_ By the Nine, Cyrus didn’t know what to feel anymore. Part of him was happy that he found people who were willing to literally walk to Oblivion with him, on the other hand, why did it have to be _those two_ of all the men and mer on Nirn? Maybe his theory that his whole life was a practical joke by the gods was correct. At any rate, he made sure to pick up the discarded crystal from the chapel floor. Maybe it was still worth something, and if she didn’t need it, he had enough of a debt to keep it for himself and later sell it.

“Whatever, let’s just get back to the task at hand. I actually wanted to talk to both of you about something before we help Savlian, which I suppose both of you will have no quarrel with, right?”, Cyrus began. He figured that Savlian would expect them to stay, so they didn’t have an easy way out of it.

Both of them nodded eagerly. Ever since he acquired Chillrend he had been thinking of this, and now with Lilienne in tow it was a good time to go over it.

“Well, we’ve closed the Oblivion Gate together, and judging from what I’ve seen so far, you both are capable at what you’re doing, but there’s something I’m missing - let’s talk about strategy and how we can work together, as a team.”, he announced.

Vanyael and Lilienne looked like he just personally insulted every single of their family members at the same time. Clearly this was not something they expected or would even remotely enjoy, but in Cyrus’ mind, it had to be addressed. So far, they’ve only stumbled around and somehow managed to defeat their enemies, but it always felt like they were just getting lucky. As a restoration mage, he wanted their battles to be less chaotic and more structured. Additionally, he might feel a bit less useless that way, though there was no way he would ever admit that.

“Firstly, Vanyael. I know you like to be invisible and stealthy, but all that jumping around makes it hard to support you with my magic. I can boost your dexterity and help you keep a steady aim, in addition to heal you if it is needed, so I would appreciate if you…”, Cyrus explained, but he realized that both of them already stopped listening.

“Spare me the details, isn’t it your job to get these things done no matter how we act?”, Vanyael responded, waving his implications aside.

“All I want is a few seconds of visibility time before you start barging off, is that too much to ask?”, Cyrus replied, trying to keep his voice down. Fittingly to his underlying rage, a loud clap of thunder was echoing through the chapel.

“And you, what should I do with you? If you reflect or absorb my spells, how can I…”, Cyrus addressed Lilienne, but she seemed to have her head in the clouds already again.

“Eh, I don’t know, I don’t think about those things. I usually just go _Zap!_ and _Kerblang!_ and _Whoosh!_ and all the baddies are done for!”, she explained while highlighting every expression with a fitting pose. This discussion was going nowhere, Cyrus could already tell.

“But hey, if you want to help me, cast something on me anyways. If nothing else, it at least replenishes my magicka, which is important, too.”, Lilienne suggested.

“Alright then. Just be sure to keep health potions on you at all times, then.”. Cyrus was tired.

His proposal was met with another thumbs-up and grin from Lilienne. He was a fool for even trying to make them act like reasonable and sensible adults for ten seconds. But even if they had wanted to discuss the topic further, they couldn’t, since Savlian decided to speak up.

“Okay, everyone well rested? We have to make a move. We're not done. Not even close. This was only the first step. If this town is to be ours again, we'll need to get inside the castle.”.

“You've come this far with us; will you go further? If we're truly going to succeed, I'll need much more of your help. I warn you though, what we've seen so far is nothing compared to the battle that likely awaits us. Are you ready to go? We need your help getting to the castle, but we need to move soon.”, he added, now explicitly addressing Cyrus and Dragonheart.

“Sure, I guess…”, Cyrus shrugged while Dragonheart just grunted and gave a stern nod.

“Ha ha, I knew you'd be up to it! Our goal is the castle gate. You know the drill. Stick close, and keep your eyes open. Let's move out!”, Savlian responded and just like before, he headed immediately out the chapel.

Using the doors adjacent from where they entered, they could circumvent the fallen spire and reached a large plaza in front of the castle moat. Under the dark and stormy sky, Cyrus could make out more destroyed buildings everywhere, similar to the other side of the chapel. The place was swarming with Daedra; Scamps, Clannfears, Flame Atronachs and the occasional Dremora were occupying the area. The abundance of their forces in the city served as an explanation of the little resistance they met on the other side of the Oblivion Gate.

“Will you hurry up and do your dumb magic or what? I’m not going to wait all day!”, Vanyael exclaimed after a few seconds of Cyrus taking in the scenery. Was she actually considerate of him? How unexpected.

Cyrus quickly augmented her ability to run, jump and aim before Vanyael vanished thanklessly. Lilienne on the other hand was having a literal blast. With Daedra left and right, she could just go all out with her “new” staff, which seemed even more powerful than the original one.

From the castle battlements, a group of Dremora mages were relentlessly attacking the plaza with fireballs, which was more of a nuisance than anything. On a gesture of Savlian, an Altmer guard tried to get rid of them with his bow; he was soon accompanied by Vanyael and together with Lilienne they managed to keep them in check.

Meanwhile, the oh-so-great Dragonheart, Grand Champion of the Arena, was doing his thing: slicing up Daedra with extreme prejudice and violence, not paying any mind to anyone else around him. Cyrus on the other hand had a lot more to do than when they first entered the city. The area was wider so he had to keep an eye on everyone and hurry over to them whenever it looked like they might get hurt too much. He managed to use Chillrend on some of the Daedra, too. Was it really the first time he used the blade since he got it a few days ago? Some adventurer he was. The additional frost damage helped though, at least as far as he could tell, he was still no expert in sword-fighting.

After an awful lot of time in the pouring rain, they finally managed to clear the area of the remaining Daedric creatures, except for the flame-slinging Dremora on the castle walls. For some reason, whenever one of them was dispatched, another one took his place. _How many of them were there, gods damnit!_

Despite that, Savlian decided on a direct attack through the castle gates, but as soon as they crossed the bridge over the moat, they realized that it was a fruitless endeavor, as the portcullis was down, denying them entrance to the castle grounds.

“Damnit, this is no good! The gates are locked, and the only way to open them is from within the gatehouse.”, Savlian yelled in frustration, hammering with a fist on the metal gate.

“Great, then how do we get in?”, Cyrus asked. Just when everything seemed to go smoothly.

“The only way to get into the gatehouse now would be through the passage at the north guard house. But that's always kept locked. Hurry and find Berich Inian. He should be back in the chapel and should still have the key. Once you've got it, get to the guard house, find the passage, and open that gate. Then we can get inside the castle and secure it.”, Savlian suggested. Why didn’t he just do that himself?

“Alright then.”, Cyrus sighed, “Vanyael, Lilienne, let’s go.”.

“No, we are short on people with ranged weaponry, they need to stay here and help us fending off the Dremora mages. You can team up with the Grand Champion!”, Savlian asserted. Great, now he had to tag along with the rude violent lunatic, this was not what he signed up for.

The rude violent lunatic in question and his idiotic little sidekick were waiting at the other end of the bridge, dodging fireballs and angrily staring up at the castle battlements. _What good does your battle axe do you now, huh?_

“Savlian thinks we should head back towards the chapel and regroup with Berich. We need to get to the north guard house. Will you come along?”, Cyrus stated, as politely as possible.

He at least didn’t want to give the Grand Champion any more reason to talk down to him, something which he did anyway: “Yeah, someone needs to keep weaklings like you from dying, I guess.”.

It was official: Cyrus did not like this man, not one bit. Just like the Dunmer he briefly met in the Imperial Prison, this guy reminded him far too much of Scar-Tail for him to be even remotely likeable.

“Just follow me and let me do the fighting, you can play around with your fancy magic if you like.”, Dragonheart continued before turning around and walking away towards the chapel, followed by his always grinning fan.

Cyrus looked around to see if the girls witnessed this vile affront towards his person, but their eyes were fixed on the Dremora on the castle walls. Figures, it was a lonely battle he was fighting. But for now, he should probably bury the hatchet and keep up with it, for Savlian’s and Kvatch’s sake. Being the greater man he was, he swallowed his quickly risen anger and reluctantly followed Dragonheart back to the church.

Inside, Berich was already waiting, together with three Imperial Legionnaires which apparently arrived here shortly before, after seeing the smoke coming from the city. How they could have seen anything in this raging thunderstorm was beyond Cyrus. He kind of expected to tell them what was going on and inform them about Savlian’s plans, but Dragonheart immediately took that role instead. Something about how this all played out irked Cyrus, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

After Dragonheart briefly filled them in, Berich was eager to start fighting back against the Daedra: “That's right! They managed to close the castle gates just before we were forced in here. I'm afraid you're in for a tough time, friends. The city's in bad shape, and it will be difficult to make it to the guard house by yourself. I'd better go with you. We'll have to go through the chapel undercroft, and then through what's left of the city.”.

“Okay then, let’s get going. All of you, follow me.” Dragonheart bellowed, and like well-behaved puppies, Berich and the legionnaires obeyed. Apparently, a little confidence really got you a long way, something that Cyrus didn’t want to learn from someone like Dragonheart.

As expected, the undercroft was filled with Daedra, but with Dragonheart and the soldiers leading the way, Cyrus could just casually walk behind them without getting in too much trouble, while occasionally casting healing spells on the combatants, just like he always envisioned his journey to go. But why did he feel the urge to actively take part in combat, now? Something felt different.

Behind the undercroft lay another rainy part of the ruined city that they hadn’t visited yet, and it was by far the largest one. They made their way through countless ruins and across charred streets littered with burnt corpses, it wasn’t a pretty sight. Cyrus did his best to support Berich and the legionnaires with his restoration magic, while mostly ignoring Dragonheart. He wasn’t petty enough to let him outright die, but somehow, it made him feel better to let Dragonheart know what he thought of him, even if it was in a very subtle and passive way.

Soon, they came across something that looked like the remnants of an arena, which was inhabited by another Flame Atronach. Dragonheart threw himself into battle but realized quickly that his steel axe might not be the best weapon of choice against a being made of fire. Cyrus quickly rushed to his aid, the fiery Daedra was no match for his icy blade. Cyrus couldn’t help but smugly grin at Dragonheart after the Atronach was defeated, something that earned him a deadly glance from the Grand Champion. In hindsight, angering him probably wasn’t his smartest idea.

“This is it. The entrance to the passage is right here. I'll unlock it for you. Best of luck.”, Berich declared as they reached the northern tower at the other end of the arena. He went in and unlocked a metal trapdoor on the floor next to some broken barrels.

“I'm going to head back and meet up with the rest of the troops.”, he finished and gave a nod to the legionnaires, who left with Berich back the way they came, which meant Cyrus was now alone with Dragonheart and his annoying Elf companion.

The latter immediately went on with endless tirades about his idol’s exquisite leadership skills. Of all the days he spent in Cyrodiil, this was by far his least favorite one so far. Maybe he should start writing a diary and rate each day, it might bring some amusement to his future self.

As Dragonheart opened the trapdoor, a gist of black smoke escaped from the opening, sending all of them into a coughing fit. The fire must have spread into the underground interior areas as well. Without regard for potential risks, the Nord instantly started to climb down the ladder into the smoky darkness below, followed by his fan. For a second, Cyrus thought about just ditching them and regroup with Berich, but again, he decided to power through for Savlian’s sake and went after the Champion down the rungs.

At the lower end, they arrived at what seemed like a long and narrow tunnel that connected multiple towers on an underground level, leading vaguely in the direction of the castle. Cyrus was happy to be out of the rain again, but the heavy smoke lingering in the air and the company made this place not exactly inviting. At least it was uninhabited by Daedra so far.

“So, how did you become the Grand Champion?”, Cyrus asked, after they walked down the tunnel in silence for a while. In reality, he couldn’t care less, but he was making one last effort to stay at least on neutral terms with Dragonheart.

“The former Grand Champion told me to look for his father or something. Wanted to know about his ancestry.”, Dragonheart grumbled. He was clearly not interested in a conversation as well, at least they had something in common.

“Trudged through half of the province to some old fort near Anvil only to find out he’s the offspring of a vampire. Poor guy was so demoralized he didn’t even fight back in the last match. Though I don’t see how any of this is your business.”, Dragonheart finished.

Wow, he didn’t even win his title fairly. Just when Cyrus thought he couldn’t dislike the Champion more than he already did, the Nord went out of his way to prove him wrong. But considering they were alone in a desolate underground passageway, Cyrus refrained from talking back to him. Despite everything, he still kind of valued his life, and he surely didn’t want to lose it to some axe-wielding lunatic in a smoky corridor. On the plus side, as they climbed another ladder at the other end of the passageway, Cyrus reveled in a newfound appreciation for Vanyael and Lilienne.

Just as Savlian described, they reached the inside of the gatehouse. A large crank was sitting on the wall on the other side, obviously the means to open the gates.

“Let me handle this, milk-drinker.”, Dragonheart declared and went over to the mechanism. Seemingly with ease, he turned it multiple times and the portcullis on both sides of the gatehouse opened up with a loud scraping noise. Savlian and all the others came rushing in immediately, thanking Dragonheart for his great work. Cyrus could see where this was going. He already had the vague feeling that Dragonheart deliberately tried to show off from the second they entered the city. Cyrus clenched a fist on his side, he would not stand for this!

As they carried the battle into the castle courtyard, Cyrus couldn’t stop pondering. Was Dragonheart really that self-absorbed and insecure that he had to act like this? _What a childish sentiment_ , Cyrus thought, while making sure to take a more active role in the fight this time. He tried to not run away from the Daedra as much as he did before, just to see how Dragonheart would react. _That poor man,_ Cyrus contemplated, _needing to boast with his battle prowess because he had no other redeeming qualities._ He managed to land another hit on a Flame Atronach with Chillrend, before it was taken out by an arrow from somewhere.

Luckily, Cyrus wasn’t the person to take part in silly displays of power like that. _I’m a grown-up and reasonable person,_ he thought to himself, as he tried to heal Savlian and Berich at the same time, all while making sure that Dragonheart was nearby to witness it. Cyrus seriously pitied the guy.

“This area's clear. We've got to get inside and find the Count before it's too late. Move out!”, Savlian exclaimed eventually, when all the Daedra inhabiting the courtyard were defeated.

With that, they made their way through a pair of dark oak doors into the castle proper. They entered a large hall made out of dark stone, ruined furniture littering the room. So far, they hadn’t suffered from any losses, probably thanks to Cyrus’ restoration magic. Dragonheart looked as grumpy as ever, with his adoring fan cheerfully following him. _Poor Elf, not even knowing what a sad person his idol truly is._

“What are you grinning for, Cyrus?”, Lilienne inquired, suddenly popping up next to him.

“Nothing!”, Cyrus shrieked while tensing up his face muscles. He lost track of them during the mayhem in the courtyard, so he got a little startled.

“Oh, really? Because out in the courtyard, you already acted different from before. You seemed so much more… eager than usual. Almost reminded me of when we were facing the zombies back at Bleak Flats Cave. Did you regain your fighting spirit?”, she kept prying.

“I… yes, maybe.”, Cyrus replied brusquely. Why did she have to be so perceptive in situations like this?

“Aaww, that makes me so happy! You know, I told Vanyael that you are not as gloomy as she thinks!”, Lilienne exclaimed while clasping her hands together.

“Yeah, maybe he met _someone_ who helped him realize his true potential, I wonder who it could be…”, Vanyael chimed in from his other side, bearing her signature evil grin.

“I…”, Cyrus started, but luckily for him, more Daedra entered the hall from the other side, causing everyone to shift their attention towards them.

What were they implying? Could it be that he subconsciously _competed_ with Dragonheart? No, that couldn’t be right. He was far above that kind of behavior, wasn’t he?

“Hey, you, need a little help here!”, a voice proclaimed from the other side of the room, pulling him out of his thoughts.

The guard they rescued from Oblivion was fighting against a Clannfear, and by the looks of it, was losing. Cyrus quickly rushed over to him, healing him while serving as a distraction for the large lizard. Was he really that petty of a person to try to outshine Dragonheart?

“All right, this is it!”, he heard Savlian proclaim after all the Daedra in the main hall were taken care of, which came as somewhat of a surprise to Cyrus.

“We'll hold this area. You three and Dragonheart, head to the back of the castle, and find the Count. Don't come back here without him!”, he ordered, addressing Cyrus, Vanyael and Lilienne. Marvelous, he had to spend more time with the Grand Champion, at least this time he wasn’t alone and the annoying Elf stayed behind.

Together, they ascended a spiral staircase behind a broken throne and ventured through another hallway. Cyrus deliberately let Dragonheart lead the way, so he could take his distance in an attempt to talk to his companions without him overhearing.

“So, what do you think of Dragonheart, from all you have seen so far?”, Cyrus asked in a hushed voice.

“I don’t know, seems like a capable warrior. Why do you care so much? Do you seriously see him as a rival? That has to be the dumbest thing you ever did, and that is saying a lot.”, Vanyael blatantly ascertained. To Cyrus, it felt like she just slapped him in the face. Was it that obvious to everyone except him?

“Ooohh, a rivalry? How chivalrous, I didn’t expect you to be so inspiring, Cyrus.”, Lilienne added happily.

“What of that is inspiring? It’s just dumb and childish.”, Vanyael scoffed, “Men are just so predictable sometimes.”.

“That’s not true! It’s well known that friendly rivalries enhance the sense of self-worth and make both parties strive to be their very best!”, Lilienne replied, offended. It was clear as day that she held romanticized concepts like that in high regard.

“Does any of those two strike you as the _friendly_ type?”, Vanyael countered.

“Uhm, I’m right here, you know…”, Cyrus tried to intersperse, but their little quarrel got interrupted by Dragonheart anyways.

“Will you shut up already? We’ve got company ahead!”, his thundering voice roared.

Lilienne puffed up her cheeks and looked deeply offended, Vanyael just shrugged and readied her bow.

“How can you have so little self-awareness…”, she muttered towards Cyrus before vanishing into thin air again. _You’re one to talk!_

The “company” Dragonheart mentioned turned out to be more Daedra in what looked like the remains of a large banquet hall. A huge chandelier had crashed down into the table below, much like Cyrus’ feelings of righteous superiority had been crushed by the girls’ comments. He was so exhausted, in all kinds of ways, he just wanted to find the Count and get it over with. How late was it, anyway? He needed a good night’s sleep and to order his thoughts. With his drive stolen from him, Cyrus felt as defeated as he had when he first entered the Oblivion Gate.

But even without him helping much, the others managed to defeat the Daedra inhabiting the hall. As they moved on towards the next corridor, they probably looked like Nirn’s worst festival parade: Dragonheart lead the group with fierce determination, followed by a smug looking Vanyael. Third in line was a still huffy Lilienne, expressively flaunting after them. Cyrus trotted behind everyone like the miserable pile of self-doubt that he was.

The corridor turned right and abruptly ended at a small wooden door, this had to be the Count’s quarters. Dragonheart didn’t knock or announce themselves, instead he simply kicked in the door and entered. _What a brute._

What they found behind the door wasn’t very comforting, either. Next to his bed, the lifeless body of someone in regal clothing was laying in a pile of blood, a Dremora triumphantly standing above him. They were too late.


	9. Heir to the Empire

“Oh, come on!”, Cyrus yelled.

He could feel all his exhaustion and pent up frustration leaking out at once. After all his troubles, all his emotional torment, all this unpleasant forced self-realization, this was how it turned out in the end? Were they destined to fail from the beginning? He should have never agreed to search for the Count. By Oblivion, he should have never agreed to search for Martin in the first place! That wasn’t any of his business, he just got dragged into it against his will! His thoughts circled at an unprecedented speed around a concept that he thought he got over since he left Black Marsh: that he was, ultimately, a deadbeat that was destined to fail.

His scream apparently alerted the Dremora because it took out its mace. The Daedra yelled something before storming at them, and Cyrus readied Chillrend. In his frustration, he felt ready to defeat anything Oblivion might throw at him!

But Dragonheart’s axe was faster and killed the Dremora in one hit, long before it could reach Cyrus. The Gods wouldn’t even grant him that one small victory.

“Oh, is the Count tired? Why is he resting on the floor?”, Lilienne wanted to know.

She was struggling to see into the room over Vanyael’s shoulder, who was actively trying to block her view. Cyrus didn’t know if she was really that naïve and innocent, but considering her mannerisms so far it was probably a good call of Vanyael to shield her from unpleasant and discouraging things.

“It’s nothing. Let’s just return to Savlian.”, Cyrus muttered. He just wanted to go home.

Dragonheart grunted, something which Cyrus interpreted as agreeing with him. He didn’t even care about his alleged rivalry at this point, he was tired. Together, they trudged back the same way they came. What a pointless endeavor, after all. As they reached the throne room again, Savlian immediately came rushing towards them.

“Where is the Count? Why is he not with you?”, he exclaimed, confused and slightly agitated.

“I'm sorry. He didn't make it.”, Cyrus responded. Lilienne kept quiet, distracted by something in the corner of the room. _Thank the Nine_. After everything, Cyrus was at his limit, he had no energy left to deal with any of this.

“We... we were too late? If only we'd gotten here sooner! This is indeed a dark day for all of us left. But I thank you for risking your own life to help us. Did you find the Count's ring, by any chance?”, Savlian exclaimed in a grave voice. The Count’s ring? Why on Nirn would they have taken that?

“Well, I… uuhh…”, Cyrus stammered, but Vanyael interrupted him.

“Here it is.”, she said and stepped forward. She proceeded to walk over to Savlian and dropped a silver signet ring from her hand into his.

“What in Oblivion? Where did you get that from?”, Cyrus whispered, once she was next to him again. Savlian seemed to inspect the ring, probably checking if it was the real thing.

“From the Count’s corpse, obviously. You ask the dumbest questions sometimes.”, Vanyael responded, also in a hushed voice.

“When and why did you…”, Cyrus started, but Savlian piped up again.

“At least this is safe. Thank you; I shall make sure it is protected, for the time when a new Count is crowned.”. He formally addressed all of them, before stepping up towards Dragonheart and talking to him directly.

“Here, take this. I have no use for it; I'm tired of fighting. It may serve you well in days to come.”.

With that, Savlian slipped out of his cuirass (thankfully he wore clothes underneath it), folded it neatly and festively bestowed it on the Nord. In the end, Dragonheart had snitched away the fame for everything they went through. Cyrus expected nothing less.

But he wasn’t angry. Why would he be? After all, Dragonheart probably deserved everything the world so excessively threw at him. So there was absolutely no reason for him imagining the Nord getting mauled by a Clannfear.

“Why did you unsheathe your sword? There are no Daedra left anymore, it’s over.”, Vanyael broke his train of thoughts.

“Nothing. Let’s just get out of here, we still have a task to accomplish.”, Cyrus answered brusquely. He had no idea how Chillrend ended up in his hand.

They collected Lilienne, who was rummaging in a pile of books on a wrecked drawer and left the castle after very briefly bidding farewell to Savlian and the others. At least he got a congratulatory firm handshake out of the situation, _yaay_. Cyrus just wanted to get as far away as possible from Dragonheart, who was still getting showered in honors, even after they left.

As they stepped out the wooden castle doors, the heavy thunderstorm was still sweeping across the city. Shouldn’t it have subsided by now? How long has it been since they arrived here? With everything going on, Cyrus had lost all feeling for time.

“Alright, now… Why did you have the Count’s signet ring? Do you have no respect for the recently fallen?”, Cyrus asked Vanyael while they were walking across the bridge over the moat.

“Oh, come on. Pilfering bodies comes with the territory. How do you think you get rich as an adventurer? By looting ruins and corpses, that’s just how it works.”, she answered, slightly irritated.

“Is that what you did the last few days when we were traveling?”, Cyrus asked. He was genuinely bewildered.

“Of course. Wait… you didn’t? How did you think this whole adventuring thing worked?”, Vanyael exclaimed, a wide grin slowly forming. Lilienne, who had a vacant look in her eyes since they left the castle, now seemed amused by it, too.

Cyrus felt slightly embarrassed. If even Lilienne caught on, he obviously was wrong in his conviction. Living as a priest in his hometown included holding funerals and giving the deceased their last rites, so he learned to treat the dead with respect, other than those two it seemed. For that reason, it didn’t even cross his mind to loot the dead bandits or anything, he just took stuff from chests and other containers. In retrospect, he realized how childish that was.

Vanyael’s prior amusement turned into outright laughter. “Don’t tell me you are scared of corpses? Shouldn’t you be used to it, as a priest and all?”.

“Says the person who almost fainted at the sight of zombies!”, Cyrus responded, fiercely holding back his temper. Again. These girls brought out the worst side of him.

“I told you, I…”, Vanyael now yelled angrily, hands on her hips. Did he strike a nerve?

“Guys, don’t fight again, or I will use calming spells to make you!”, Lilienne chimed in. This time, instead of showing her sad face she seemed _almost_ intimidating, with clenched fists at her side and a weird pouting grimace on her face.

Both Cyrus and Vanyael didn’t want to find out what exactly she meant by that and decided to drop the topic, which greatly pleased Lilienne, who immediately went back to her usual cheerful demeanor. What a perplexing person she was. Together, they kept walking in silence through the rainy, destroyed city.

“So… what’s the plan? What are our next steps? Where are we going?”, Lilienne inquired as they exited Kvatch and passed the broken remnants of the Oblivion Gate.

She sounded and acted as bubbly as ever, but Cyrus could tell from her slightly disheveled looks that she probably was as exhausted as he was. A short glance over to Vanyael told him that it most likely was the same for her.

“We will go back down the hill to the refugee camp and rest a while I before we look for Martin. Once we did that, we leave. I don’t want to stay any longer in this place than I have to, but I think we all deserve a little break”, Cyrus explained.

While it was still weird to be seen as some kind of authoritative figure, right now, Cyrus desired nothing more than a warm and dry bed, and as soon as they found out if Martin survived, there was nothing stopping him from heading to the next inn and enjoying just that. At least he hoped it would work out that way.

When they arrived at the camp, the thunderstorm finally subsided and gave way to an almost clear sky. Cyrus wasn’t really surprised to see the dawn starting to creep over the horizon. They really spent an exceptionally long time at Kvatch.

Compared to when they first arrived here, there were significantly more people around. Tierra obviously succeeded in leading the survivors from the chapel here. A lot of them were still sleeping inside the tents, but others were walking around restlessly or stowing away their few belongings in chests.

Cyrus threw himself onto a bench next to a fireplace, stretching his arms and legs, accompanied by a long yawn, with Vanyael and Lilienne soon following his example. They were all still drenched from the rain, and in the chilling morning breeze the warmth of the fire was a welcome sight.

“Hey Vanyael, got any more of those stamina potions? I guess we could all need one after this night.”, he suggested. They had another day of traveling in front of them before they could rest again.

“Who am I, a priest of Stendarr? I’m not wealthy enough to just give out potions to anyone as an act of charity.”, she briefly replied. She probably thought she could get away with that, but she didn’t reckon in Lilienne, who followed up with another emotional outburst.

“Aaaww, but we’re all sooo tired, how can you be so stingy and mean! We’re all friends, right? And friends share in situations like this!”, she exclaimed loudly, tears seemingly forming in her eyes.

“You heard that? We’re friends and all, so you better stand a round.”, Cyrus reiterated. Now it was _his_ time to grin smugly.

Begrudgingly, Vanyael produced three of the green potions from her bag and handed one to each of them. Lilienne immediately shifted into happy-mode again, briefly hugging Vanyael before leisurely sipping on her potion. _Hooray for team efforts._

“That reminds me, can we stop at a merchant’s place on our travels? I collected a lot of nice things in Oblivion, but I can only keep so many of them.”, Lilienne stated. Just as he suspected before, even Lilienne was better at this adventuring thing than he was.

“Here, let me show you!”, the Breton exclaimed happily and opened the tiny pouch on her belt. Out of it, she pulled several large maces, Daedric in appearance, presenting them proudly to Vanyael and Cyrus.

“I got them from all the Dremora! They’re all enchanted with various spells and look simply adorable, I just had to take them with me!”, she explained casually.

Cyrus couldn’t fathom in what twisted world these horrible, spiky and murderous things would be considered “adorable” in any way. But he was once again more amazed by the carrying capability of that pouch of hers.

“How does that sachet work? How can there be so much room in there, that’s absolutely ridiculous!”, Cyrus stated.

“We just went to an otherworldly place with seas of lava, meeting Daedric beasts beyond the comprehension of most mortals, and you yourself just as Lilienne use actual, real magic every day. Why is the concept of an enchanted pouch so hard to comprehend for you?”, Vanyael scoffed.

“It’s just… It seems wrong. Like… like cheating or something. Whatever, never mind.”, Cyrus started, but gave up half way through. He already learned that, for some things, it was better not to worry too much about it.

“At any rate, that’s great! Maybe you can stay around as a mul-… Uuh, I mean… as a… a mutual... mutual friend, yes!”, Cyrus added, narrowly avoiding a slip of tongue. A glance from Vanyael told him that she picked up on that regardless. Lilienne, on the other hand, did not, as she was overjoyed.

“Aaww, that makes me so happy! Also, you’re finally showing some affection and not just stoically comment on everything, good for you!”, she answered happily. Cyrus hastily took a large sip of his potion to evade further discussion on the topic. Luckily, none of the girls did instigate further and they just relaxed for a while under the rising sun.

“Alright, moment of truth.”, Cyrus muttered, soon after finishing his stamina potion, more to himself than to anyone specifically. In addition to the warmth of the fire drying most of their clothes, the effects of the potion slowly kicked in and he started to feel rejuvenated, enough to finally tackle the task at hand.

“Listen up everyone! Anyone here seen a person called Martin? Priest of Akatosh?”, he asked in a loud voice, addressing as many of the fugitives around him as possible.

“Martin, the priest? Yeah, he should be around here somewhere.”, a Redguard woman answered.

Finally, the first good news in a long time. It may have been the side effects of the stamina potion, but Cyrus felt like jumping up in happiness. Lilienne and even Vanyael seemed to be relieved too. Maybe this was the day his luck would finally turn around.

From a tent down the road a figure emerged. A man, maybe a few years older than Cyrus and also dressed in priest robes started walking up to them. Messy, shoulder-length brown hair framed his round face and as he came closer, Cyrus could make out ridiculously bright blue eyes piercing him with their gaze. As the man started to speak up, he did so with a warm, calm and soft voice that would also befit a courageous noble warrior.

“Are you looking for me? I heard about how you helped the Guard drive the Daedra back. Well done.”. Someone genuinely acknowledging their actions, it kept getting better and better.

“Thank you, don’t mention it.”, Cyrus responded humbly.

“It was a lot of work, you know. Defeating all those Daedra, closing the Oblivion Gate… but you know, that’s just what we do.”, he added, not quite so humbly anymore, until Vanyael jabbed her elbow in his side.

“Anyways, I came here to find you. You are in great danger.”, Cyrus finally declared.

“Danger, you say? You came here to tell me this?”, the person who Cyrus assumed was Martin responded. But for some reason, he appeared to be angry.

“Explain yourself or leave me alone. There are many others here who actually need your help!”, Martin continued.

Just as Cyrus suspected when they arrived here, Martin actually was a selfless person, caring for other people even now. And to top it off, he was able to speak in coherent sentences, unlike his late father, which was a big plus as far as Cyrus was concerned.

“Listen, you’re Martin, right? The priest of Akatosh in this city?”. Cyrus wanted to be sure.

“Yes. I'm a priest. Do you need a priest? I don't think I'll be much help to you. I'm having trouble understanding the gods right now. If all this is part of a divine plan, I'm not sure I want to have anything to do with it.”, Martin responded.

It was clear that the events that transpired in Kvatch shook him and his beliefs, and Cyrus couldn’t blame him. Maybe he should try to comfort him about that?

“Listen, I’m also a priest of Akatosh. All my life I’ve been told that the gods always have a plan for us, so…”, Cyrus started but halfway he forgot where he was going with it. After all that had happened so far, he started to question his faith, too.

“What plan? What are you talking about? I prayed to Akatosh all through that terrible night, but no help came. Only more Daedra! What can you possibly know that would help me make sense of this?”, Martin replied, now visibly agitated. So much for comforting him, maybe he should leave that to people like Lilienne.

“Okay, I’m just going to be upfront about it: You are Uriel Septim VII’s son. As in like, Emperor Uriel Septim.”, Cyrus announced. A look of disbelief showed up in Martin’s face.

“Emperor Uriel Septim? You think the emperor is my father? No, you must have the wrong man. I am a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer.”, he responded.

“I assure you, what I said is true. In fact, all those Daedra… I suspect they attacked Kvatch because of you.”, Cyrus explained, but it was met with another elbow-jab of Vanyael. What did he do wrong now?

“An entire city destroyed to get at me? Why? ... Because I'm the emperor's son?”, Martin said, a dejected look in his eyes.

 _Oh._ He inadvertently guilt-tripped him, that’s what Vanyael meant. He _really_ wasn’t cut out for this kind of talk.

“Uuhh… anyways, why would I lie to you?”, Cyrus hastily added, in the hope of turning the conversation to a more positive one again.

“I don't know. It's strange... I think you might actually be telling the truth. What does this mean? What do you want from me?”, the priest wanted to know.

“Well, technically, I don’t want anything from you, but I am supposed to get you back to someone named Jauffre at the Weynon Priory near Chorrol, so I wanted to ask you to come with me.”, Cyrus declared, in the hopes of getting through to him.

Martin took a moment to ponder that idea. After a while, he finally responded:

“You destroyed the Oblivion Gate, they say. You gave them hope. You helped them drive the Daedra back. Yes. I'll come with you to Weynon Priory and hear what Jauffre has to say. Lead on.”.

 _Ha_ , that was easier than he thought! Funny, how things could turn around so quickly, just a few hours ago he was in absolute despair and now he felt like he could take on anything.

“Alright, then our goal is clear. We will head out immediately to our destination!”, Cyrus stated triumphantly.

“Yes, let’s go to Anvil!”, Lilienne exclaimed, equally boisterous. _Huuh?_

“Did you listen to a word I said? Why in Akatosh’s name would we go to Anvil? We need to get Martin to the Weynon Priory, Anvil is in the complete opposite direction!”, Cyrus reiterated.

“Because of my Mages Guild recommendations, did you already forget? We’re already at Kvatch, and Anvil is the next city on the road, so I figured we could…”, Lilienne started, but Cyrus had no intent on dragging this whole thing out any longer.

“We will most certainly NOT travel to Anvil, just to trek back all the way after you finished whatever assignment they give you! I’m sure Martin doesn’t want to get dragged across half the province, right?”, Cyrus replied, seeking confirmation of the priest.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind to…”, Martin started but Cyrus cut him off.

“See, he’s obviously very frustrated at your lack of consideration!”, Cyrus asserted.

“But… my recommendation! I want to go to Anvil, I already have the one from Chorrol!”, Lilienne insisted. Cyrus couldn’t tell if she was getting angry or sad, or both at the same time.

“There you go again, acting like… like a _brat_! How can you be so…”, Cyrus replied, but their quarrel was cut off by Vanyael loudly clearing her throat.

“You are forgetting the most obvious solution: We split up. I will go with Vanyael to Anvil for her Mages Guild business, and Cyrus can take Martin to Chorrol. That way, everyone is happy. I suggest we regroup later at Cyrus’ house in the Imperial City.”, the Wood Elf explained. _Wow_ , she could be quite pragmatic at times, Cyrus could almost see her in a different light now. Almost.

“Alright, I guess that’s the best thing to do. Are you okay with that, Lilienne?”, Cyrus asked.

“Only when you apologize for calling me a brat! I’m 24, you know!”, Lilienne answered, snappishly looking away from him. What was with that prima donna behavior? Was this really the time and place?

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”, Cyrus responded, and her attitude instantly shifted again.

“Yaaay, Anvil, here I come!”, she yelled, punching her fist in the air in enjoyment. Vanyael just observed the scene with a smug grin on her face, she had to be awfully pleased with herself.

Meanwhile, Martin looked at all of them with an unfathomable expression on his face. Cyrus was embarrassed, what kind of first impression did they make on him? These thoughts continued to plague his mind as they got ready to leave. Additionally, he wasn’t so sure if splitting up was the best idea, since it left Martin kind of defenseless if another attack on his life would occur.

After everyone was ready to embark, they bid their farewells (with Lilienne insisting in hugging Cyrus for an uncomfortably long time) and the girls left towards Anvil in the west, while Cyrus and Martin started traveling back the way Cyrus came the day before. But in contrast to the heavy fog that severely limited their visibility back then, the sky was bright and clear this time.

Martin turned out to be a great travelling companion. As a fellow priest of Akatosh, they had a lot in common and Cyrus found it really easy to talk to him. On their way to Skingrad, he told Martin everything he went through to get to him, all his trials, and all the mishaps along the way. He may have taken the artistic liberty to enhance some of his stories, and he may have complained about the same things multiple times, but it felt really great to get everything off his chest. And Cyrus could tell that Martin was a good listener by the way he only uttered monosyllabic responses, probably out of consideration to not interrupt Cyrus’ stories. After a while, he stopped responding at all, which Cyrus read as a sign of a deep mutual understanding. What a truly wonderful person he was, if only Vanyael and Lilienne shared some of his traits.

After arriving at Skingrad, they briefly stopped at the inn for a quick meal and restocked at the local merchants, before leaving again towards the Imperial City in the east. Cyrus planned to reach the Weynon Priory by night, just so he could get over with this emperor business as fast as possible.

They hadn’t gotten very far away from the Skingrad city walls, when, all of a sudden, the atmosphere began to change rapidly. The birds became oddly silent, the temperature rose, and the wind picked up. In addition, the bright blue sky seemed to change its color to a sickening red. Cyrus could hear and see lightning flashes in the distance. Immediately, he knew what it entailed: This was the scenery that unfolded on top of the Kvatch plateau, when the Oblivion Gate was still open. Was there another one around here? Did it just open? Was someone following him and Martin, trying to resume their failed attack?

“This weather… I have experienced it before. It was just like this, when…”, Martin started, but trailed off. But Cyrus knew what he was going to say. And as it turned out, Cyrus was right.

It didn’t take them long to locate the newly opened gate. A bright orange light shined through the trees, and a bit north of the main road, the monolithic flaming gateway was emerging in the middle of a fenced in enclosure. By the looks of it, it used to be a small graveyard, as broken tombstones and coffins were strewn around as the ground erupted to give birth to the infernal gate.

Cyrus and Martin hid behind the undergrowth near the fence and decided to observe the scene before springing into action. Immediately in front of the Oblivion Gate, a tall creature was wandering about. It was humanoid in shape, with a dark blue skin and a muscular build, dressed only in what seemed a red loincloth and a few tribal accessories. Cyrus recognized it as a Xivilai, one of the most powerful and intelligent Daedric creatures known to man. Just his luck.

The Xivilai easily towered everything in its vicinity, standing at least six foot tall as it shuffled around, turning his head in all directions, almost as if it was looking for something.

Then, with a sudden loud bang and a pillar of flame that shot up into the sky, the Oblivion Gate imploded and collapsed, causing Cyrus to audibly gasp in shock. Immediately after, the sky began to clear up again, with the usual forest atmosphere slowly returning. What was going on? Why did the gate close on its own? But they had bigger problems coming up.

Alerted from the sound of his gasp, the Xivilai turned its gaze towards the shrub they hid behind. How was it even able to hear that! Cyrus’ first thought was to just run away as fast as possible, but he couldn’t leave Martin behind, so he did the only other thing that came to his mind.

He quickly drew Chillrend, jumped up and stepped in front the shrub and Martin, facing the Xivilai. An action that could be seen as purely heroic, but Cyrus didn’t feel heroic at all. In fact, he was so scared that his knees shivered and that he had trouble holding his sword up. If he only had brought Vanyael and Lilienne along, even Dragonheart would have been a welcome ally in this situation. He swallowed, grabbing Chillrend with both hands, ready to parry whenever the Daedra struck. Or maybe even strike first, he clearly didn’t plan this far enough ahead.

But instead of attacking him, the Xivilai just stood there, its bright yellow eyes fixated on Cyrus and its muscles bulging as it carried around a ridiculously large sword effortlessly in one hand. And then, just as Cyrus decided to turn around and just flee the scene, the creature lowered its horned head and opened its mouth to talk. But as it began to speak, an unfittingly bright voice seemed to emanate from the air all around Cyrus instead, slightly reverberating in his skull.

“Fear not, mortal! For I am no foe!”.

“What in Akatosh’s name…”, Cyrus whispered. He briefly averted his eyes from the scene in front of him to check on Martin, and his bewildered gaze told him that he was just as confused as himself.

“Who is this otherworldly being that emerged before your undeserving eyes, you may ask. Well, you have to ponder no longer, for it is I, Lord Telderion the First, high aristocrat and esteemed warrior of Miscarcand.”, the creature said and performed a deep curtsy that appeared highly unnatural and surreal.

Cyrus couldn’t help but just staring at the strange occurrence in front of him. What was going on, where the Daedra now playing tricks with his mind? Was this a ploy for him to let his guard down?

“Wh… what? Explain yourself, what are you doing here, what is going on!”, Cyrus demanded but his words didn’t sound nearly as confident as he would have liked.

“Ah, it seems another mortal mind that cannot grasp my current form is in the vicinity. Who is this elusive being, they ask; how can such splendor and beauty appear in such trying times? I don’t judge you, many before you were mystified at my presence, so allow me to explain.”, the voice stated with splendid vigor. Whatever was going on, someone was awfully full of themselves.

“For you see, eons ago, long before humans settled these lands, my people used to thrive here in magnificent cities of white stone, many of them with structures so tall that it was said they were to touch the stars! You may know them as the Ayleids, the purest and fairest of all Mer.”, the voice explained, gesticulating expansively, but it only confused Cyrus even more.

“The… Ayleids? You’re an… an Ayleid warrior? But… But you’re a Xivilai, and the Ayleid empire fell in the First Era, so how can you…”, Cyrus stammered, but the voice immediately started yelling.

“SILENCE! By Meridia, I will not stand for this slander of our name! The Ayleid empire did not fall, we merely stepped back in history due to factors beyond our control!”.

“I… I am sorry?”. Cyrus offered a half-hearted apology. As far as he remembered from his books, the Ayleid reign definitely ended a very long time ago and no one has seen them ever since.

“I will accept your apology, even though such actions do not befit my social standing. But such is the grace and mercy of Telderion the First!”, the voice droned.

Cyrus felt this exchange was getting nowhere, he wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to have this conversation in the first place.

“Well then, I will just be on my way then… it was nice meeting you, take care!”, he hastily exclaimed while signaling Martin to get out of here as soon as possible.

“Not so fast, mortal, for I am not yet finished with the riveting tale of Telderion the First, warrior lord of…”, the voice continued, but Cyrus really was not in the mood for any more self-congratulating talk of this Ayleid-Daedra hybrid creature, whatever it was.

“No really, I have to get going now, because…”. He attempted to interrupt the Xivilai, but the voice just continued, slightly louder than before.

“It was in the late years of the dastardly Alessian slave rebellion, when my master conducted an unprecedented experiment that turned me into the being I am to this day! The Daedra you see in front of you is a mere vessel, for I am not corporeal in nature. My soul resides inside this fine claymore, the mightiest symbol of Ayleid military supremacy!”.

With this, the Xivilai elaborately presented the sword it has been carrying the whole time. It was a large two-handed blade of elven origin, embedded with a large blue gemstone slightly below the crossguard. On closer inspection, the crystal seemed to glow bright blue whenever the voice was talking.

“You… you are an ancient Ayleid soul entrapped in a sword, carried around by a Xivilai?”, Cyrus summarized, slowly lowering Chillrend.

He originally wanted to make a run for it while the voice was talking, but this was just too crazy. Now he had seen everything. Besides, the creature apparently meant no harm, if it wanted to kill him it would have already done it.

“I am not entrapped! I willingly chose to take this form to guarantee our victory in the civil war that plagued our fair empire!”, the soul answered, sounding slightly irritated.

Knowing how history went down for the Ayleids, Cyrus suspected it wasn’t of much use in the long run, but something told him he should not bring this up at the moment.

“So… how come you got associated with a Xivilai of all things, and where were you all this time? You came out of the Oblivion Gate, right?”, Cyrus inquired. Martin just kept staring at the Xivilai, maybe he was wary of the creature.

“After many trials and tribulations in my quest to return to Meridia’s light, I instead ended up in the Deadlands, the abominable realm of Mehrunes Dagon! It was there where I came acquainted with this fine specimen, a noble Xivilai by the name of Reixite. And then, after an eternity wandering these dreadful lands of fire, I felt the presence of a pure energy, the force of light and the stars! I simply had to follow its call and it brought me here, back to Mundus, and to you, a puny human. Tell me, how can it be that _you_ radiate this holy aura?”, Telderion recounted.

“I… I don’t know?”, Cyrus stated. He had no idea what this… thing was on about. Did he just enthrall a Xivilai to do his bidding? Also, what was up with this condescending talk about mortals and puny humans?

“Okay, I think I heard enough. I… kind of wish you the best on your journey or… whatever you do next, but I really have to go now, so… goodbye.”, he added and turned to leave with Martin following him. But they did only get a few yards away before the sound of thundering steps behind them alerted them to the Xivilai’s presence once again.

“No, wait! It is of utmost importance that I find out the root of this conundrum, I simply have to discern the cause of this aura of light! May I advise you to let me join your travels?”, the soul insisted.

“I…”, Cyrus started to protest, but the creature was faster.

“Then it is decided. I, Telderion the First, will accompany you from this day onward, to determine the origin of this peculiar energy!”, the voice proclaimed.

Even Martin looked shocked. There was no way on Nirn that he would start tagging along this unholy amalgamation of an essentially undead Ayleid warrior and a dangerous Daedric creature, it was just a disaster waiting to happen. Besides, he had no idea what this energy or aura was supposed to be. Why did he even start to talk and reason with this thing? It was absolutely pointless! He had to get out of this somehow.

“Listen here, Xivilai…”, Cyrus started.

“Please, it’s Telderion the First, or Telderion for short, warrior lord of…”, the voice once again proclaimed, but Cyrus was having none of it.

“Okay, listen up, Telderion. I have important matters to attend to, and I just can’t have someone like you follow me around.”, he announced as confidently as possible, but to no avail.

“Ah, so you are a man of many mysteries yourself, how quaint. If so, may I offer my services as a seasoned swordsman? I assure you, my prowess on the battlefield is unparalleled!”, Telderion boasted.

For a moment, Cyrus hesitated. A veteran warrior would certainly be a great addition to their group. But he couldn’t let himself be swayed so easily, he had to follow his conviction!

“No, I’m just… never mind. I have to go now. Alone. And there is no way you can make me change my decision, okay? As a priest of the Nine, the day I let an essentially undead being be my acquaintance is the day I lose all my credibility!”, he proclaimed proudly.

“How unfortunate. I hoped we would come to an agreement, but alas! I challenge you to a duel instead! After I defeat you, I will have all the time in the world find the source of this mystery, for sure!”, Telderion quickly retorted.

Was this a threat? Was Telderion going to simply kill him, just to study whatever he was going on about? Even so, he couldn’t falter now! He should be ready to accept death before the dishonor of traveling along with this undead monstrosity! There was no way he would give in so easily!

“Welcome aboard. You’re free to come along, just please let me do what I have to do.”, Cyrus muttered tonelessly.

“I thought you would come around. Who would not want to travel with an extraordinary ally such as myself! Surely you will be envied by all your peers, for my precious gift of allowing you to be in my company!”, Telderion announced.

Cyrus couldn’t tell if Telderion was sneering or if he was so full of himself that he was actually believing all those grotesque remarks about himself. At any rate, this was the day that he sold his integrity for the mere will not to be sliced in half by a sword wielding Daedra. Martin didn’t seem to agree with his decisions, staring at him with the face of what he assumed a disappointed father would make not that he ever met his own. But what was he supposed to do? It was just another eccentric person (and he used those words lightly) that he seemed to attract, just like Vanyael and Lilienne.

Maybe it was true, and birds of a feather really flocked together.


End file.
